Freak Like Me
by majormiryti
Summary: A story out of curiousity about what might happen if Logan had a daughter. Rated T to be safe, as I have no idea where this'll end up. Don't be scared away by the number of chapters; they're pretty short.
1. You Got Me

My name is Stephanie Ryan Creed, and I'm a freak.

Don't try to argue the point, because I am. You'll see.

Right now, I'm in a room being stared at by the person who finally caught me, which takes serious talent. He's demanding that I write down my story for him, and he's not going to move from in front of the door until I do. So that's basically the only reason I'm writing this, because I _hate_ writing and wouldn't do it otherwise.

((I hope you're happy, whatever-your-real-name-is, because this story is going to be complete and utter CRAP, because my life is way too weird to put in words.))

He's still staring. Rather unnerving, since you can't see his eyes. Why he wears those sunglasses indoors is anyone's guess.

Oh, look, he's got a friend. How sweet. She has white hair. And now they're both glaring at me.

I have a feeling that if I don't get started on this, they'll either kill me or let me starve. Or both.

I'd like to see them try.


	2. A Brief Introduction

Well, where to start?

Like I said, I'm Stephanie Creed, but I go by Steff, Ryan, Peregrine—after seeing Lord of the Rings, anyway—Ren, Peyton…I have a lot of names.

I have my mother's gold eyes, wiry build, sense of humour, and appreciation for good music.

I have my father's jet black hair, temper—though not quite as bad—lack of social skills, and, uh, claws.

Yep, that's right, claws. I also have fangs and a superior healing ability.

Told you I was a freak.

Okay, that's done, I can officially start now.

I was born on March 15th, the Ides of March. Don't ask what year, because I'm not entirely sure, not even sure what year it is now. The last birthday I celebrated was…thirteen, I think. It's been a couple years by my clock, so I'm probably fifteen. I _feel_ fifteen, but I'm not sure if I have my father's longevity and/or skewed aging, so I don't know. So we'll just pretend that's right. Wheee…

Anyway.

Everything was relatively normal when I was little. I lived with my parents, but Dad wasn't around much. Mom always said it was some kind of top-secret government job, like the FBI or Area 51 or something.

I wasn't a freak then; that wasn't for a few years. I didn't know Dad was a freak, either, until I was ten years old.

That was the last time I ever saw him.


	3. Define 'Normal'

It was a Friday. I remember, because Mom and I always saw the Pixar movies on opening day, and we had just got back from _Finding Nemo._ Back then, that used to be the highlight of my summer. We'd go out to dinner, and then catch one of the last shows of the night. Then, when we got home, we'd go upstairs to my room and take turns reading from one of my favorite books. I loved to read, but hate to write. Go figure.

Anyway, by the time we got back from _Nemo _and finished _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, it was storming really bad outside. Mom had gone back downstairs and was watching something on TV while I tried to fall asleep.

Nothing worked that night. I had had mild insomnia off and on for about a month, and the storm wasn't helping. Finally, at about midnight, I decided to go downstairs and get Mom, since I hadn't heard her come up to go to bed yet.

I didn't know what was about to happen, much less what it would do to my future life.

Okay, _that_ was cheesy…

* * *

**((Author's Note--Yes, I know, the chapters are short. Deal with it. lol.))**


	4. What Just Happened?

I tiptoed down the stairs and ventured into the den. "Mom?" The only answer was some commercial on the TV, barely audible.

Slightly _more_ audible was the sound of two people talking—arguing?—in low voices in the kitchen. One voice—Dad was home?!—rose, and the other—Mom's—cut if off, saying something that ended with "…wake Steph up."

I padded silently into the kitchen, another freak ability, though I didn't know it then. "Mom?"

Both of them turned to look at me. Mom was pretty, even in her pajamas with no makeup on and her curly red hair falling every which way. Dad, on the other hand…

He was soaking wet, and dripping a puddle on the tile floor. He must've literally just come in out of the storm. His formerly white shirt was now stained with dirt, sweat, and what looked like…like blood. He had a number of scratches on him, but they were visibly healing. His shoes were gone—if he had even worn them in the first place—and his black sweatpants had the same rips and stains as his shirt.

But none of that was even close to the most shocking thing I remember about him from that night. No…

It was the claws.

Long, sharp claws sticking out from Dad's hands. Three of them on each hand, razor sharp and dripping a combination of rainwater and blood.


	5. Cats And Dogs

We all stood there for a minute, probably looking like complete idiots. Completely speechless.

Finally, after an awkward silence, the horrible claws retracted into Dad's hands. My jaw dropped even further, if that was possible.

He turned quickly and opened the door. "I have to go."

"No, Logan, wait!" Mom ran after him, but it was too late. He had already disappeared into the night. She just stood there, watching after him, letting the rain drench her through and through. I wanted to go out and bring her back in, but my legs wouldn't move.

I finally got them to obey my brain and went out and pulled on her hand. "It's really bad out here, Mom…"

She snapped out of her fog. "Yeah…let's go in."

We walked up to my room together, and I pretended to fall asleep quickly so she would leave. She didn't, though, instead staying and stroking my hair. After what seemed like hours, she left, softly closing my door.

As soon as she had gone, I sat bolt upright in my bed. What was going on? Why had Dad come back in the middle of the night, only to leave so soon? And most importantly, why did he have those claws?! Mom hadn't wanted to talk about it that night, but I swore to myself I would ask her in the morning. I _had_ to know.

That night, I had nightmares about men with bloodstained claws.


	6. Explain

Unfortunately, Mom was still numb the next morning. She didn't even eat anything; she just sipped at a cup of coffee.

But I still had to know what was going on.

"Mom," I said timidly, "what happened last night? With Dad, I mean."

She sighed deeply and rubbed her temples. "Where do I start…"

I waited, poking at my Cheerios with a spoon.

She took a deep breath and shifted in her chair. "Steph, I won't blame you if you don't believe a word I say, but it's all true." Another deep breath, eyes focused downward on her coffee mug. "Your father is…a mutant."  
I had already guessed that from the claws, but I stiffened instinctively. "A mutant? But in school, they taught us that…that the mutants were a threat. Evil."

She pushed her hair back from her face. "And some of them are. But others—like your father, Dr. Grey, Professor Xavier—they aren't."

"Dr. Grey and the Professor are _mutants_?!" I had met them once before, but they seemed perfectly normal. No reasons for people to fear and hate them.

"Yes, Steph, they are. Telepaths, which means they can read minds. Dr. Grey can also move things with her mind…telekinesis."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of everything. "When did you find out? About Dad?"

Deep sigh. "Shortly after we met…we were out walking one night after dinner, and some thug came up and tried to attack me. So Logan…" She trailed off.

"Stabbed him?"

"Yeah." Her eyes looked frazzled, like she had seen more of the dark side of life than she had ever wanted to.

"You weren't scared?"

"Of course I was. I was terrified. But he kept apologizing and apologizing, and finally he swore never to do anything like that in front of me ever again." She fiddled with her ring. "And after you were born, we decided to keep everything a secret. Both promises were kept—he has never killed anyone in my sight, and until last night…"

"I'm sorry." I mumbled.

"Steph, it's not your fault." She got up and hugged me from behind my back.

"Mm-hmm." I didn't believe that.

We stayed like that for a long time. Then, a thought crossed my mind.

"What if…do you think I'm a mutant, too?"

"I don't know, Steph. We'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

**A/N: So, if this seems a little weird, I apologize. =] I mostly write late at night, which is when I get the really good ideas. xD Please review...please? lol.**


	7. The Better To Eat You With, My Dear

We found out later that summer.

We were looking at the pictures we had just got back from some online photo printing website of our recent trip to the beach. Some of Mom's friends had lent us their beach house for a week, so we stayed for almost free.

As we were laughing over a picture of me buried up to my neck in the sand, Mom paused and scrunched her eyebrows. "Hang on a sec." She got up and retrieved a magnifying glass from the kitchen. Exactly _why_ there was a magnifying glass in the kitchen, I'll never know.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Ever since Dad left, I had been extra-careful not to do anything that could be interpreted as 'mutant-like.' Was there something off about the photo?

Mom's eyes widened as the glass passed over my mouth. "Steph…look at your teeth."

I took the glass and squinted at my photographic features. "I don't see anything."

"Go check the mirror."

"Okay…" I walked to the bathroom, flipped on the lights, and grinned cheesily at the mirror. That's when I saw them.

I now had two bright white, cat-like fangs on each set of teeth, top and bottom.

There was only one thing I could do—scream.

* * *

**A/N: Rawr, why are these so short?! I swear, they're longer on paper. xD**

paramore fanatic--Oh, no worries...=D You totally just gave me an idea.

ZuzuHowlett--Of course Logan's the best! He's got his own movie!

Anywho. I apologize (again) for the short chapters. They're gonna get longer...I hope.


	8. Besties

We didn't go anywhere for the rest of the summer. Not even to the movies. After all, I was already completely silent when I walked and had freakin' _fangs_, so who knew what could happen next?

I tried to file my fangs down, to make them look normal, but they just fixed themselves—sometimes as I watched in the mirror.

The start of school was looming overhead. While it was never easy, this year was going to be especially problematic. I mean think about it— what if I suddenly sprouted a long, pointy tail and started teleporting at random in the middle of math class?!

But it's not like there was another choice. Mom had a job, so homeschooling was out of the question. Said job didn't pay much, either, so there went private school. She had considered sending me off to Professor Xavier's school, but that didn't work out for some reason. It's not like it was a school for mutants, anyway.

So, when the first day came around, there we were, standing at the bus stop. I had specific orders from Mom not to let _anyone_ notice my fangs or to tell anyone about them. Not even my best friend, Simone.

The bus pulled up, and I waved a half-hearted goodbye to Mom as I got on. A slew of other kids were behind me, so I quickly sat down next to Simone.

Even after not seeing her for years, it still amazes me that we were best friends. She was bubbly and outgoing, I was more quiet and shy. She looked like a thinner, more athletic version of Raven on _That's So Raven,_ while I looked more like a skinny and awkward Liv Tyler.

As soon as I sat down, she started bubbling away. "Hey, Steph! How was your summer?"

"Good," I replied, not letting my teeth show.

"Cool! We went to Disney World, and I rode Space Mountain three times!"

"Really?" I had always wanted to go to Disney World, but we could never afford it.

"Yeah! And we got pictures with everybody, and I was going to ride Tower of Terror, but I chickened out."

I ran my tongue over my fangs. _I wish I was normal…_

Simone stopped and looked at me. "What did you do this summer?"

"Hm? Oh, we saw _Finding Nemo_ and we went to the beach. That's all."

"Oh. Well, that's cool, too." She pulled something out of her backpack. "Look, I got you something from Disney!" Her hand opened to reveal two necklaces, each with a Tinkerbell pendant. "They're the same, because I couldn't find any friendship necklaces, so these will work, too. One for each of us."

I smiled and put the necklace on. "Thanks, Simone."

She grinned back, but the smile quickly fell off her face and was replaced by a look of confusion.

Oh, no.

She peered closer. "What's with your teeth?"

I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth. "Nothing…" How could I be so stupid?! I had just been thinking _not_ to let anyone see!

Simone peeled my hand away. "They're pointy…like a vampire's." She frowned. "You didn't turn into a vampire over the summer, did you?"

I shook my head, ashamed. The first day of school, and I had already messed up, big time.

Simone lowered her voice. "Are you…a mutant?"

I could feel my cheeks turning red. "Yeah." She sucked in a deep breath, and I turned to look at her. "Please don't tell! Who knows what they'll do to me?!"

Simone nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, Steph. You're my best friend. Best friends would never turn each other in."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

**A/N: At last, a longer chapter! Huzzah...don't forget to review! =]**


	9. Life's Remote

Fast forward a few years.

I was thirteen, and finishing eighth grade. Nothing majorly mutated had happened, except that my temper was getting worse and worse. Amazingly, I had managed to keep the fangs a secret, and Simone hadn't mentioned them since that day on the bus.

Mom hadn't talked much about it, either. She just tried to keep everything normal and under control. In fact, for my birthday, she took Simone and I to go see the Plain White T's in concert. If that's not 'normal,' I don't know what it. Every kid is entitled to at least one concert in their lifetime.

We hadn't heard from Dad in three years.

Like I said, my temper was worse. So I guess you could blame that for the first time I got home from school late.

**---**

I stormed in the front door, slamming it after me.

"Steph?" Mom's voice called from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Who else?" I shot back.

"Are you alright?"

"Never better." I dropped my backpack on the couch and sat down at the table, fists clenched.

"What happened? I was worried." She sat across from me.

I slouched down. "I got detention."

"What for?!" Her eyes lit up in alarm.

"I punched a guy in the face."

"You did _what?!_"

I straightened up. "Brian Jones. He was trying to steal my backpack again. And he's been making fun of me all year." After a thought, I added with pride, "I broke his nose."

She held her head in her hands. "Oh, Steph…"

"What?"

"You've _got_ to learn to control your temper."

I bristled. "What do you mean?!"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Last week you practically bit Simone's head off when you guys were playing Guitar Hero!"

"She was cheating!"

"How can you cheat at Guitar Hero?!"

She had me there.

"That's not the point, though," Mom continued. "The point is that your temper has gotten way out of hand as of late."

"So?"

"Stephanie--" She never called me 'Stephanie' unless she was _really_ PO'ed—"I'm not going to tolerate that attitude. You can consider yourself grounded."

Joy.

* * *

**A/N: If anyone DOES know how to cheat at Guitar Hero...lemme know. xD**


	10. Mister McCartney Said It All

By the ninth time I got home late from school, Mom was pretty good at guessing what had happened.

"Detention?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

"I chucked my science book at Yvette." Or "I socked Brian again." Or something like that.

"Steph, why? Why do you keep doing this?"

"I don't _know_…"

"I thought you had finally gotten your temper under control!"

"Guess not." I would stomp upstairs, slam my door, and zone out completely. Sometimes I didn't even go downstairs for dinner.

The tenth time, though, we both snapped.

"Stephanie, that's the fourth time you've gotten detention this week!"

"Yeah, I know."

"What am I going to do with you?!"

"I don't care." I stormed up to my room, Mom still yelling after me.

"Stephanie Ryan, you come back here _right now!_ You are in so much trouble—"

I slammed and locked the door and turned my radio on full-blast, drowning out her tirade. "Walk Away" by Kelly Clarkson was playing as I screamed into my pillow.

Normal teenagers think their parents don't understand their issues. Try being a _mutant_ teenager. Admittedly, the only obvious traits I had now were the fangs, the temper, and a recently discovered Superglue memory, but still…

I started punching the crap out of my pillow as the song changed to "Clocks" by Coldplay. In my mind, the pillow became every single victim of my rage—Brian, Yvette, my teachers—especially my English teacher—Mom, morning TV hosts, my English teacher again, Brendan Fraser…

I smacked the pillow harder as I thought of another one—Dad. No word from him in the _three years_ since he had left. Nothing at all. And then there was the fact of him leaving in the _first_ place! Dr. Grey had said in one of her speeches that the mutations were brought about by conditions of extreme stress; well, there was the source of most of mine.

As I landed a punch with my right hand, there was a quick sharp pain between each of the knuckles on that hand. I brought it up again, ready to knock the pillow into next year, only—

The pillow wasn't there.

"Okay, not cool." I muttered to myself, looking around for it. The song on the radio was now Paul McCartney's "Live and Let Die."

_You used to say 'live and let live.'_

I noticed an odd weight on my right hand.

_But in this ever-changing world in which we live in--_

Holy crap…this did not bode well. I raised my hand up to eye-level.

_Makes you give in and cry…_

The pillow was skewered on three claws coming out of my right hand.

_So live and let die._

* * *

**A/N: What fun!! =D  
"Live and Let Die" is one of my favorite songs, so I kinda had to use it somewhere.  
As always, please review!**


	11. Text Speak Is Crap

My hand was shaking as I tugged my pillow off the claws. I was doing all I could not to scream. There were little spatters of blood from where the spots between my knuckles had hit the pillow.

I looked at my other hand. It seemed perfectly normal. I socked the pillow with that hand, too, and it was promptly re-skewered as the claws shot through my skin. It was little more than a shredded sack with feathers in it, but I pulled it off as carefully as I could.

Suddenly, my phone chimed. It was a text from Simone.

"hey steph why don't you come ovr tonite? we rented mib from netflix."

I started to reply back with "srry im grounded again," but after a thought, I put something different.

"Kk, be rite over. somethin rly freaky just happened & i need to show you. mom is pretty mad rite now. b right thr."

I hated text-speak.

Somehow, I managed to retract my claws. I wrote a note to Mom and left it on my desk—"Over at Simone's. Don't freak, I'll be back tomorrow."

I grabbed the pair of sweats and loose t-shirt that served as my pajamas, and stuck my phone in my pocket. The radio was now playing "Hey There, Delilah," and I left it on as I opened the window and climbed out. With any luck, Mom wouldn't check on me till later, thinking I just wanted to be left alone.

Of course, with my luck, she'd unlock the door using a skeleton key just as I was leaving our yard.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, another short one...I promise, they're longer on paper. **

**paramore fanatic--I'm working on it...and the fangs were just a wicked awesome trait I'd like to have. Logan doesn't have 'em. Plus, Steph is significantly more social than him...she actually has friends. =P**


	12. Who Needs Doctor House?

The walk to Simone's house wasn't that long, and I was there and ringing the bell in about twenty minutes.

Simone's mother answered the door. "Hello, Stephanie!" Mrs. Westerfield was beautiful. She looked almost exactly like Halle Berry, and no one would ever have guessed that she had two kids. She always seemed so composed and relaxed. Even as her son, Alexander, raced past happily in the background, all she did was smile warmly and let me into her home. "Simone is upstairs in her room."

I nodded. "Thanks for letting me come over."

She closed the door behind me. "Anytime, Steph."

I waved slightly to Mr. Westerfield, who had caught Alexander and was playing with him in the living room. He laughed and waved back.

How I envied their normalcy.

I entered Simone's room. She had blankets and pillows spread out on the floor, and her laptop displayed the menu screen of _Men In Black_.

"Hey, Steph!" she said, shutting her door. "How's it going?"

"Not so good." I sat down on the floor, putting my stuff beside me. "I told you Mom was mad at me, right?

"Yeah." She started the movie. "You also mentioned something freaky happened…?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, what is it?"

I took a deep breath. "Simone, are you sure you want to know?"

"Yeah! I mean, c'mon, you already have fangs _and_ you remember everything you see or hear. What could be freakier?"

"This." I winced as the claws shot out from my hands. I'd had to concentrate until my head hurt to keep them in until now; it was going to take a lot of practice to make them listen to my brain.

Simone practically fell backwards. "Holy crap!"

"Ssh!" I hissed. "Mutants aren't exactly _popular_, you know."

"Sorry!" she whispered. "What…what _are_ they?"

"Claws."

"What are they _made of_, you dork."

"Oh." I examined them closely. "They look like bone. I mean, what else could they be?"

"True." She was peering at them, too. "Do they hurt when they come out?"

"Yeah. Not so much as the first time, but they still do."

"Yikes."

Tommy Lee Jones neuralized someone on the screen.

"Does your mom know?" Simone asked.

I shook my head. "It just happened, like, half and hour ago. I locked myself in my room and started punching a pillow. A few minutes later…pillow kebabs." I retracted my claws, and Simone stared at my hands, wide-eyed.

"The cuts!"

"What about 'em?"

"They're…they're fixing themselves!"

"What?!" I flipped my hand over to see for myself. Sure enough, the last cut from the claws was wrapping up its repair. No scar, nothing at all to show it had been there.

Will Smith was chasing some freaky suicidal alien dude.

Simone and I looked at each other. "Promise you won't tell?" I asked.

"Promise."

"Anyone?"

"Not a single person."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, she heals, too. I promise, that's it. Besides, without the healing ability, her hands would probably be bleeding most of the time. Not pleasant.  
Angel of the woods--Ohhh, that's cool!! As of today (6/3/09) I haven't seen Wolverine yet, but that shall be remedied this weekend. Huzzah! ((I had to ask my brother who Victor was...I feel so smart. -_-))  
Leah-The Writer--No worries, I've got about six more chapters after this one in my notebook ((but it's still not finished!)) and they just keep getting longer. I just need to get off my butt and get them typed out. Blame the Uglies books.  
To everyone--keep reading and reviewing! Y'alls reviews literally make my day. =D That probably means I should get a life...xD**


	13. Burn, Baby, Burn

Last day of middle school.

Mom had been pretty PO'ed about me running over to Simone's, but once I showed her the claws, we reached an agreement to leave that incident in the past and move on.

_I Am Legend_ was absolutely wicked, though. Possible new favorite movie. Totally worth it.

She made me swear, though, that I wouldn't do _anything_ to get me in any sort of trouble. At all. Or else. ((Isn't it funny how parents never specify what the 'or else' actually means? Weird.))

It was tricky, but I survived. Actually, I survived the entire last _week_ of school without getting detention.

I ran home from the bus stop, ecstatic to finally be free. Mom and I had plans to do something that afternoon to celebrate. She wouldn't tell me what, but knowing her, it was bound to be good.

As I dashed up the hill leading to our house, the smell of the air suddenly changed. Instead of the typical early summer scent, it smelled more like…smoke.

Oh no.

I sprinted to the edge of our driveway and saw the worst possible sight—our house was on fire. No, not just on fire, it was a freakin' _inferno._

"Mom!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Mom!" I heard sirens racing towards the house. One of the neighbors must've called 9-1-1. It was too late, though. The blaze had been going for a while, and the house wouldn't stand much longer.

I felt the sharp pain between my knuckles as my claws subconsciously shot out. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn't get them back in, so I took off for Simone's house. At least that was a safe place for a freak like me.

Somehow, I knew the investigation to come would say the house burned down out of carelessness, like someone had left the stove on or something. But I knew that wasn't it.

Someone had purposefully set the fire. Arson.

I was going to strangle that creep.


	14. Run, Run Away, and Never Return

I knocked frantically on the Westerfield's door. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Simone answered.

"Steph, what's wrong?!"

I stumbled inside. "My—my—someone burned down my house!"

She gasped. "Is your mom okay?"

"I don't know." Suddenly, I broke down and started crying.

Mrs. Westerfield came down the stairs. "Stephanie? What's—" She stopped when she spotted my claws. "What are those?"

"Go ahead and stare!" I shouted. "I'm a mutant; I'm a freak with claws and fangs! I don't care!"

Two policemen rounded the kitchen corner, nodding to the Westerfields. "That's all we needed to hear, ladies." One of them said

I shot a confused look at Simone. She was crying now. "Simone…?"

"They…they made me." She replied weakly.

"No! _NO!_" I screamed as the cops tried to herd me out the door. "Simone, you promised! _Promised!_"

She didn't answer, just turned away. Mrs. Westerfield was watching me, a slight superior smile playing on her face.

The cops picked me up by the arms, and I started kicking and screaming louder. "Let me go! Let me GO!"

They didn't.

"I said, let me _GO!_" I broke the grip of the one on the right and slashed at the other with my claws. I don't know if I hit him or not, but it was enough to make him let go of my other arm.

I whirled and slashed at the first cop. This time, I saw the claws slice through his uniform and deep into his shoulder.

I took the opportunity to sheath the claws and run like heck. The sirens were still wailing at my house, which meant the firemen were doing their best to put out the blaze. No way was I going back there.

After I had been running for a pretty long time, my legs gave out, and I collapsed in an empty pocket park between two buildings and assessed my current situation—

Simone, my best friend, had turned me in to the authorities. That hurt more that detention, fights with Mom, _and_ Dad leaving all put together.

I was now on the run, with only my backpack, old black jeans, a yellow Plain White T's shirt from the concert, and a pair of beat-up Converse.

No food. No money. Nothing at all. It's not like I could've just walked in somewhere and taken the stuff, either. Everyone was bound to be on the lookout for me.

I was going to have to run some more.

The only question was, where did I run _to?_

I kicked off my socks and shoes and stuffed them into the backpack. I hated shoes.

I racked my brain for all the possible places to go—Mom had been an only child, and Dad had never mentioned any relatives. Like I'd try to find them anyway. If they were anything like him…

I shuddered, not wanting to think that through.

Then, it dawned on me—Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters.


	15. Locomotion

If what Mom had said was true, that Professor Xavier was a mutant, too, then his school would logically be the best place to go. He couldn't turn a fellow freak away, could he? No.

From what I'd heard, the school was somewhere in New England.

New York! That sounded right. It was somewhere in New York.

First things first, though—I had to get out of town. _Now._ The anti-mutant cops—and pretty much everyone else—were bound to be looking for me.

All I needed was a mode of transportation, and I was set. This was probably the most problematic thing about running away. I had no money whatsoever. Unless you counted the twenty-three cents in my left pocket, anyway.

I must've sat there for an hour until I figured it out. ((I'm so stupid sometimes.))

I was a fugitive now. The police were looking for me already, and all I had done was exist.

Would anyone care if I hopped a couple of trains or buses without a ticket?

I think not.

That was that, then. I picked up my backpack and started off for the nearest train station, my bare feet not making a sound on the hot pavement.

---------

Turned out that 'the nearest train station' wasn't as close as I had thought it would be. By the time I got there, it was nearly dark. I didn't take the most direct route, though. I couldn't. The anti-mutants were everywhere.

I got on the first train I saw without looking at where it was going. Stupid move, I know, but I was tired and nervous, always afraid someone would catch me.

It was still a stupid move, so I need to quit making up excuses.

I found a set of empty seats and collapsed in one next to the window. Today had been crap, plain and simple. I stretched my feet out and leaned against the window, trying to sleep.

No sooner had the train started moving than someone sat down next to me. I opened one eye to look at whoever it was.

It was an older teenage guy, maybe even in his twenties. He had a lighter that he kept flicking open and closed. His hair looked wet, for some reason. Either wet or dirty. His eyes met mine, and he nodded slightly, then went back to playing with his lighter.

After a few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. "Would you cut that out?!"

"Sorry…" he muttered, and put the lighter away.

_Pyromaniac,_ I thought, then resumed trying to sleep.

Except he spoke up again. "Where you headed?"

"Wherever this train is going." He raised an eyebrow, so I continued, albeit reluctantly. "But I'm ultimately trying to get to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, in New York."

He laughed darkly. "I went there."

"Yeah?" Maybe he could help me out.

"Uh-huh. Me, my friend, and his girlfriend."

"Was it good?"

"No." the guy said bluntly. "Was a bunch of crap. Worse that most other prep schools."

"Really?" That was disappointing, to say the least.

"Yeah. No matter what you did, there was always someone lecturing you. The professor was the worst. Him and his so-called 'X-Men.'"

"What about them?"

"The X-Men would always be running around, trying to do this or stop that. They never stuck around long.

"Prof was always trying to find new 'students' for the school. He'd spend _hours_ off by himself. And he always knew when we were up to something. It's like he could read our minds."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something stupid. This guy clearly had no idea that Professor Xavier _could_ read minds.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you," he finished. "Not on my life."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, summer is crazy for me, so I'm probably not going to update as often as I'd like. I'll try to post at least one chapter a week, but we'll see how things go.  
Leah-The Writer--'Twas all a lie, mi amiga. Logan was actually one of Xavier's X-Men, but they didn't want to tell Steph about the mutants, so her mother made something up.  
paramore fanatic--Nope, no enhanced senses. She has the _potential_ to go off her rocker, but it takes more to get her that angry. And I'm confused--are you saying that if Steph finds Logan at the school, _she_ would be all like "I'm gonna kill you!" or are you saying that if she finds him at the school _you're_ gonna kill _me?_ *confused face*  
icanreadyourmind and Shruikin--Glad y'all like it! Keep reading and I'll keep writing! Actually, I'll write whether you read or not, but oh well, that sounded nice. xD**

**And don't forget to review. I seriously spaz every time the number goes up. xD**


	16. A Horse With No Name

Well, that was inconvenient.

The one place I had thought I'd be safe, and from the sounds of it, it was the opposite.

But why should I trust this guy? I didn't even know who he was. So I decided to find out. "Um, what's your name?"

He hesitated before replying. "John. You?"

I racked my brain for a good alias. "Ren."

John grinned. "'Wren,' as in, the bird?"

"No, Ren. R-E-N." I retorted. "It's Japanese, I think."

"What for?"

"Dunno."  
"Ah." That ended _that_ conversation. John started playing with his lighter again, and I looked around the car.

Most of the other passengers were either asleep or attempting to achieve that state. There were a few who were awake, but none of them paid any attention to each other. Except one.

She was staring straight at me with the fiercest, most cat-like eyes I had ever seen. They looked like gold set on fire, and they were both narrowed in a glare. I couldn't see what I had done to earn her wrath. Actually, apart from the eyes, I couldn't see her very well at all.

Her traveling companion was among the sleepers. He had his hat down over his face, so I couldn't tell what he looked like, only that he was old; old enough to probably be the woman's father.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because the next thing I knew, it was daylight, and the train was pulling into its destination—Washington, D.C.

_Alright, so if I'm in D.C., I need to go farther north,_ I thought. _Shows how smart I am._

Everybody was getting up and getting their stuff, so I decided to follow suit. I grabbed my backpack and made a mad dash for the door, only to be stopped by running into someone.

It was the lady with the golden cat eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know. It's short. I've got longer ones written out, I promise. I'm afraid I'm going to have to apologize for the quality of the D.C. chapters...they're pretty crappy, if you ask me. And short. xD  
Leah-The Writer--Pyro knows it's a school for mutants, but he doesn't want Steph to know. He _doesn't_ know that Steph knows that Professor Xavier is a mutant. And she thinks that he's normal, so she doesn't want him to know that, even though he already does. ((Did that make any sense?))  
icanreadyourmind--Yeah, it's John. I haven't quite figured out when this is set, so we can say it's after X3 and in an AU where John, Mystique, and Magneto are out and about and such, and Professor Xavier is not dead. =D Huzzah...  
And to everyone--I'm putting a poll up on my profile, and I expect you to vote in it. =D**


	17. Warnings

She glared at me again as I mumbled an awkward "Sorry" and tried to escape.

No such luck.

Just before I was out the door and free to go, a strong hand clamped down on my shoulder. I froze, thinking it was a cop. But when I turned around, it was only the old man who had been sitting next to Cat-Eyes.

"Can I help you?" I said, trying to be calm and collected. ((Don't think it worked very well.))

"No, no," he said with an amused smile. "I just didn't want you to run into anyone else."

Right. "Um, thanks, but I think I can go now…"

"John was just telling me he was talking to you on the way here. You sound very…interesting."

Stalker.

He continued. "I was wondering if I could…discuss some things with you."

This was getting creepy. "No, thanks, I really gotta go."

He raised an eyebrow and moved his hand up from his hip. The coins in my pocket suddenly floated out into his outstretched hand.

I gasped. "A mutant."

He nodded and sat back down in his seat. Cat-Eyes had brought over a couple of small bags, but was still glaring at me. Now that it was daylight, I could see that she had fair skin and thick brown curls. She looked like she could be a movie star.

The other passengers were still hurrying past, shoving me over to the set of seats with the old man. Mutant. Whatever. I stood there awkwardly until the old man gave another slightly amused smile and motioned for me to sit down. I chose the aisle seat, farthest away from Cat-Eyes.

"Allow me to introduce myself and my companion," he said. "My name is Erick McKellen, and this is Raven Stamos."

Oh, so Cat-Eyes _did_ have a name. "I'm Ren."

"And where would you be going?"

"Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." I replied without thinking, and immediately regretted it. I seriously needed to get better at this incognito thing.

Raven's eyes widened, and McKellen's face became grave. "I wouldn't go there."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, that's what I've heard."

"It's a dangerous place. It's been raided by the army at least once in the past few years."

"What?!" This was new. "What for?"

McKellen leaned backwards, eyes closed. "Hiding illegal items. Mind-altering weapons, weapons of mass destruction…the like."

"How do you know for sure it's such a bad place?"

He smiled. "It was on the news, Ren. Everyone heard about it. The Professor trains his students to be criminals."

I was shocked. Professor Xavier? No way! "Again, how do you know?"

"Simple. Charles used to be a friend of mine. Until he turned to crime."

No. There was _no _freaking _way_ that one was true. I'd met the Professor; he was a pacifist! He'd _never_ be a criminal! He didn't fit the bill!

Then again, isn't that what people said about some of those mass-murderers?

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, once again, sorry about the D.C. chapters. They're pretty bad. xD  
icanreadyourmind and lana123--I replied to y'alls reviews, because I felt like it and wanted to test out that nifty little feature. xD So you have the answers to your questions and I don't have to post potential spoilers up here. Yayyyy for being a slacker...;]  
The poll status is currently 2 votes for Victor, one for Gambit. If any of y'all want to see your favorite Cajun show up, vote. Conversely, if you guys want Victor ((who needs a better nickname than Sabretooth)), vote.  
Ah, I love shameless plugs. xDD**


	18. They're Somewhat Unique

McKellen looked at his watch. "Raven, go and find John, will you? We'll be late."

Raven skulked off, glaring at me again.

I started to get up and leave, too, but McKellen's voice stopped me for a second. "I must say, Ren, you look incredibly familiar."

My heart started pounding. Had he seen a news broadcast? A picture of me somewhere? "No, sir, I don't think I've ever met you before today…"

"Hm. I could've sworn…but never mind. Go off now; enjoy your day. But remember what I said—stay away from Xavier's."

I nodded and shot off. There was no way Professor Xavier could be a criminal. No way, no way, _no way._

He was in a _wheelchair_, for crying out loud!

McKellen, John, and Raven passed me. The metal gates of the train station opened for them as McKellen raised his hand. Show-off.

Raven shot one last glare at me, the smiled wickedly…and completely changed her appearance. No longer was she the beautiful Hollywood star. Instead, she was that senator—oh, what was his name?

Robert Kelly! Raven had morphed herself into Senator Kelly, the one who had so abruptly changed his stance on mutants. We had heard about him in school once or twice. But wasn't he dead?

Raven/Senator Kelly's eyes flashed gold at me, then she/he went her/his own way, leaving McKellen and John going off into the city by themselves.

Raven Stamos was a mutant.

I chased after the quickly disappearing figure. "Wait! Wait!"

Raven/Senator Kelly whirled around. "What do you want?" she/he hissed. Uncanny—the voice matched the senator's perfectly.

"You're…you're a mutant." I panted.

The eyes flared. "What's it to you?"

"So am I." I bared my teeth, showing off my fangs. "I've got claws, too," I added, quickly letting them out, then hiding them again so no humans would notice.

Raven shifted back into her movie-star form. "Follow me." She ran off again, and I was hot on her heels.

* * *

**A/N: Mkay, I'm gonna try and get as many chapters as I can up today, but I've got IndyMogul up, so we'll see how that goes. Their test films are hysterical...go to indymogul [dot] ****com****, search Wolverine, and click the second link. xD I almost died laughing...  
MaraudingVampire--I've got wayyy more chapters written out than are actually up here, so it'll be a while before Victor and/or Remy show up...leaning more towards Victor, now that I think about it. Of course, there might be a spot for our favorite Cajun as well. Who knows?**


	19. Delusions of Grandeur

I followed her through all the twists and turns she ran. While she preferred to stick to back alleys and side streets, occasionally we had to take a main road. One time, we even had to shove our way through a crowd of tourists in front of the White House.

We finally ended up at a nondescript building, where Raven opened the door without a sound and let us in.

The building may have been rather ordinary on the outside, but inside, it was pretty much a dump. There was junk everywhere, and, frankly, it reeked. I couldn't see how anyone could stand it. Maybe Raven couldn't smell. At all. At that moment, I wished I couldn't.

She wove a path around the junk in the floor, and I followed, not wanting to get lost. If that happened, I was never going to find my way out.

McKellen and John were waiting in a corner. John had his lighter out and was playing with the fire. Not the lighter, but the fire itself.

Freak number four.

McKellen had ditched the hat and trench coat he had worn on the train and was now wearing some dorky superhero-type getup. At his feet was a metal helmet, which didn't look very comfortable, if you asked me.

He lifted his hand, and John's lighter snapped closed and shot over to him.

Show-off.

McKellen looked up at us. "A new recruit already, Mystique? I'm impressed."

_Mystique?_ I was confused.

Raven went over to sit next to McKellen, her form changing. Now she was completely blue with fiery red hair.

Now McKellen was speaking to me. "Ren, so glad you could join us." Sarcasm was practically dripping from his words. "What brings you here?"

It was very tempting to just point to Raven/Mystique and say "She did," but I didn't. Instead, I shifted, not making eye contact. "You're…you're mutants."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I believe this was already established."

"So am I." Once again, I showed off the fangs and claws. "Maybe you could help me."

An amused smile played across his face. "You've been hiding, haven't you?"

"Yeah…you could say that." I replied, thinking of my mother and how we'd tried to keep it all secret.

"How long?"

"About three years. Up until yesterday." The image of the house burning flashed across my mind.

He shook his head, looking for all the world like someone's grandfather. Someone's grandfather in a dorky superhero suit. "We shouldn't have to hide what we are."

I sat on the floor. "You think so?"

"Of course. If we didn't, the humans would start another Holocaust to wipe us out. Living through one was enough for me." He stared at the ground. "A life in hiding is no life at all."

He had a point there. "So what do you say we should do?"

McKellen straightened up. "We should put them into submission. Or better, wipe them out entirely."

I sucked in a deep breath. He was a lunatic.

"We are superior in every way. We shouldn't be the ones walking around, trying to be one of them! Either they live with us, or they die." He looked me in the eye, and I suddenly recognized his face. How could I have not guessed it before?!

"You're…you're that Magneto guy. The one who set up that machine on Long Island about six years ago."

"Yes."

"And who tried to exterminate humans. A different time, not now."

"Yes…"

Thank goodness I had paid attention in school. "And now you're trying that again?"

"Of course. We're better than them." He paused. "Will you join us?"

I thought about Simone, who had been my best friend until yesterday. Even though she had turned me in, she didn't deserve to be killed by some megalomaniac.

Mom didn't, either. Even though she was dead, she wouldn't wish Magneto on anybody.

None of the humans deserved to be offed by this lunatic, not even those cops who had tried to arrest and/or kill me.

This guy was such a stereotypical villain, it wasn't even funny. Hadn't this scheme already been tried before about a thousand times?

Magneto was getting impatient. "Well?"

I had one answer for him. "On your life." I took off running, not caring about the junk in the floor, and never looking back.

* * *

**A/N: Once again, I apologize for the obvious cheesyness of this chapter...I probably wrote it at midnight or something. O.o  
ZuzuHowlett--No problem, mi amiga! Review as often as you like! -huzzah- Glad my little Pyro-Steph-Xavier speel made sense. xD  
Actually, that goes for all of you--review as often as you want! Reviews make me happy and keep me writing.  
Oh, by the way, I'm officially closing the poll on my profile page. It's come to a 50/50 standstill, sooo...yeah. And I already wrote either Gambit or Victor in, so HA!  
And if anyone guesses where I got the whole 'Erick McKellen' and 'Raven Stamos' name thing, you get a cookie. -much rejoicing-**


	20. Lessons Learned

I could feel Mystique's glare boring into my back as I ran. I didn't care; there was no way I was going to be part of a genocide.

I finally quit running when I was on the mall in front of the Washington Monument. ((At least, I _think_ it's called the mall…)) My stomach growled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, because school had let out before lunch.

Looking around, I spotted a frozen lemonade stand, a group of college-age students, and a bunch of picnickers.

Hmmm…

I walked through the picnic blankets and coolers, looking for one that wasn't being watched very closely.

I finally found one that was only being 'guarded' by a little girl and her older brother. Their parents were nearby, but they were chatting with some friends or something. I crept up and lifted the lid of the cooler as quietly as I could, then stuck my hand in, grabbed some food, and scrammed.

I was out of eyesight before they even knew I had been there. Score one for the freaks.

That's how I ate and stocked up on food—by picking off stuff from oblivious picnickers. A sandwich here, a banana there…I even found some fried chicken one time, which I snarfed then and there. I went back for some more, but this time, the guy who owned the cooler spotted me and glared daggers at me. He even went so far as to crack his knuckles menacingly and head in my general direction before I ran off.

I learned two very important things that day.

One was to never steal from the same cooler twice.

The other was to trust no one, not even other mutants. I wasn't even sure if I should trust the Professor. He seemed harmless enough, but then again, so had that guy who had stalked and shot John Lennon. And he was a telepath, too.

Professor Xavier, not Lennon-Stalker.

Whatever; I still had made up my mind—Xavier's was out. I didn't even know how to get there, and doubted that enough people knew it was out there to have it up on MapQuest or something.

Details. Uggh.

----------

That night, while I was looking for somewhere to stay, a newspaper headline caught my eye.

"_**MUTANT ATTACK ON WHITE HOUSE!"**_ it screamed. "_President and Secret Service Held Captive."_

I quickly skimmed the rest of the article. The President—along with pretty much everyone else who had been in the White House at the time—had been held hostage by three mutants that afternoon. Several SWAT and/or FBI teams had finally freed the captives, but not until several halls of the White House had been scorched by one of the mutants. It also said that another seemed to have the ability to control metal, while the third was an agile shapeshifter.

My hands were shaking as I put the paper down. Magneto, Mystique, and John had made an attack on the President. Probably trying to kill him and his cabinet.

The anti-mutant force was going to be swarming the streets.

I had to move.

Fast.

* * *

**A/N: And with this chapter, we come to Chapter 20 in Stephanie Ryan Creed's most peculiar adventures. A big THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed!  
Also along with Chapter 20, I'd like to print a retraction--I, being ever so smart and clever, have just realized that the movie_ I Am Legend_ and the song "Viva La Vida" would not have been out when Steph was thirteen...and "Hey There, Delilah" would've barely been out.  
SO, without further ado, let us all pretend that _I Am Legend_ and "Viva La Vida" say something else...perhaps _A Knight's Tale_ and "Clocks"? You choose! -bows- Thank you.**


	21. Musings in a Musical City

I ended up hopping a bus out of D.C. and getting off in Memphis, Tennessee, home of Graceland.

Yippee…

After a few days, I couldn't take any more Elvis fans, so I set off again.

That's pretty much how my life was for the next few months—get somewhere, stay a while, move on out of annoyance or to avoid suspicion, et cetera.

I was sitting in a public library in Chicago one freezing January day when my cell phone buzzed, of all things. I had lifted a charger from a store a while back, so it was plugged up now.

The others in the library gave me a dirty look. No surprise; they had been giving me dirty looks ever since I set foot in the door. I ignored them and went outside to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Steph?!"

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Simone."

"Yeah, it's me. Who did you think it was?"

"I'd _hoped_ it was someone else." I answered drily.

"Very funny. Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"New invention. Caller ID. You should try it. You did that trick I taught you where your number doesn't show up this time."

"That's not an answer…"

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to say?!" I snapped. "You know why I never answer! You freakin' turned me in! You turned me in, and you expect me to chat away like we're best _friends?!_" My claws shot out reflexively.

"We were best friends…" she said quietly.

"Yeah, well, not anymore!" I hung up and stormed off the library premises with my stuff, not caring who saw me.

I'd had enough of Chicago. The snow, the people, everything. I'd been here too long, anyway, since New Years' Eve. It was now January 20th. Would've been Mom's birthday…

I shook the thought, and a gust of biting winter wind blew through the streets. I needed to get somewhere warmer. My new-to-me black hoodie wasn't cut out to deal with this cold.

Time for some good old-fashioned Southern hospitality.

I set off what I assumed was the right direction, according to…well, to me. I didn't have a compass or anything to go on, so I just started walking.

Around Christmastime I had finally broken down and put my shoes back on. The healing ability didn't make my feet any warmer. Who knew how much longer my Chucks were going to last, though…

The wind blew again. Georgia was sounding nice right now. Actually, Bermuda sounded _really_ nice, but that wasn't exactly an option.

I kept heading south, out of the city and along the roads. I don't know how long I walked, only that when my feet started bleeding, the quickly fixed themselves.

Somehow, I got out in the middle of nowhere. All I could see was an empty space. Where there was light, anyway. It had gotten pretty dark. What I really needed was a bicycle. Or motorcycle. Or a car. Not that I could get them. But whatever.

I finally stopped in the middle of a field of grass as the sky gradually grew lighter. Even I couldn't keep going all the time like some Energizer rabbit. Besides, I was hungry.

A car drove past, but logically, it didn't stop. The people couldn't see me, and even if they could, who'd stop for a freaky girl with claws?

As I started to drift off to sleep, I thought about the task at hand. Walking all the way south was quickly ix-nayed. Took too long. I could always head back to Chicago and hop a bus. Hopping a plane would be _really_ nice, but there was the whole issue of tight security and all that.

That thought led off to a rabbit trail along the lines of 'How did Dad ever get past metal detectors with those claws?' My mind eventually figured out that 'Oh yeah, he probably never used normal airlines in the first place, seeing how he's worse than me about crowds.' ((I wonder about weird things when I'm tired.)) After all, he had more to watch out for than I did—besides the anti-mutants, there were real and actual cops hunting for him, because he'd actually _killed_ people. Me, I'd only…_intimidated_ them.

Except for that one creeper-stalker guy. He was probably dead. When I was making a quick tour of Canada after leaving Minnesota, there'd been some creepy guy with a long black coat who had followed me around for a while. I'd finally got fed up with him and slashed at his neck with my claws.

Then there was that one time when I had almost been arrested after hotwiring and subsequently driving an old Honda from Boston to just outside of Boston. It's not my fault I was smart enough to know how to hotwire a car…

Okay, maybe it was. But I'd managed to escape after the cops pulled me over for 'driving without a license.' How they knew, I have no idea. Maybe one of them was secretly a telepath. Who knows?

I fell asleep in that field, thinking of random things, just as the first bit of the sun peeked over the horizon.

* * *

**A/N: Huzzah, another longer chapter! -much rejoicing-  
Prepare yourselves, because the next chapter is going to be weird. Very, very weird. As in, _I'm_ re-reading it and I think it's weird.  
Consider yourselves warned. -evil grin-**


	22. How Bizarre, How Bizarre

Someone was shaking my shoulder.

I rolled over and swatted lazily at them. "Go 'way."

"Get up! You're gonna get yourself killed!"

I cracked open an eye to see some guy looking down at me. A girl, presumably his sister, was standing beside him, looking worried. A car engine was idling in the background.

A car…? Who'd be driving in a field in the middle of nowhere?

Sometimes I hated how weird my life was.

I sat up groggily and rubbed my eyes. I'd had the sense to sheath the claws before I fell asleep, so there was no eye-skewerage. "Wha's goin' on?"

"You were sleeping in the middle of the grass," the girl said.

_Brilliant observation, Sherlock, _I thought.

"I almost ran you over," the guy mentioned, motioning to the car, an old beater truck.

I shrugged, more awake now. "I'd be okay."

They looked at me like I was crazy. Oops. Guess I wasn't that awake yet. I hastily changed the subject. "Why are you out driving a truck in the middle of nowhere?"

He laughed. "It's not 'the middle of nowhere,' it's our backyard!"

Holy crap, these people must live on a bloody farm.

_Someone save me._

I looked around. Sure enough, I had wandered so far away form Chicago that I had ended up on a huge bit of open space. The road I had seen was actually a driveway, the ends of which were out of sight. Impressive.

"What time is it?" I asked.

The guy checked his watch. "Twelve thirty." My stomach growled, and he laughed again. "You wanna come get some lunch?"

"Oh, no thanks, I really have to get going—" I said quickly, scooping up my backpack. My stomach, however, begged to differ.

The girl grabbed my arm and started dragging me to the truck. "No more excuses, you're coming." No matter how hard I fought, she wouldn't let go. These people were seriously starting to creep me out.

I was shaking like a leaf as the three of us crammed into the front seat, with me squashed in the middle. I may not have been as jumpy about people as Dad, but I still wasn't exactly fond of them. The guy introduced himself and the girl as we drove.

"I'm David," he said, "and that's Annie." Simple as that. "Who are you?"

"Um, I'm Peyton. From Wisconsin."

"Well, Peyton from Wisconsin, I have to ask—what were you doing in my yard?"

Nosy bunch. "I…ran away from home. It was really bad at my place. I don't wanna talk about it."

David's tone became sympathetic, emphasis on the pathetic. "Alright, then."

Annie put her hand on my shoulder. "How old are you?"

I shook her hand off. "Almost fourteen." They were totally sold on the 'pitiful runaway' thing. Apparently I was a pretty good actor.

"Poor thing…" she said softly.

The rest of the ride was silent, until we pulled up at the house. It was a good size, old, but sturdy.

Annie pulled me out of the car. "Come on, there's food in the kitchen!"

I followed her into the house, were a fire was blazing in the living room. In a fireplace. Thankfully.

"Annie? David? Is that you?" A cheery voice called from the kitchen. Just like Mom used to, except perkier. Uggh. "Did you get more firewood?"

"No," David called back, "but we got something else!"

"Oh?" An older blonde woman appeared in the doorway.

"Yeah." Annie gently prodded me forward, and I shuffled up. No acting required. I was feeling incredibly scared and awkward.

"Well, who's this?" The woman said, coming into the living room.

"Peyton," I mumbled. She was way too cheery. Have I mentioned that?

"Nice to meet you, Peyton." She reached out to shake my hand. I didn't.

She coughed, slightly put off. "I'm May Birkman, but just call me May. None of that 'Mrs. Birkman' stuff, understand?" She was smiling again. This was beyond sweet, it was _saccharine_. "Would you like to get cleaned up before lunch?"

I started to turn down the offer, to bolt out the door, but my brain interjected. I hadn't had a good shower since…bugger, that was a long time ago. In my mind, anyway. I'd gotten caught in the rain multiple times, but it's just not the same.

"I'd love to!" I answered, imitating her perkiness in a sorry attempt to make fun of her. Annie led me upstairs to her bathroom and gave me some of her old—but in great shape!—clothes to wear.

That was probably the best shower I've had to date.

-----------

After putting on Annie's clothes, I went downstairs, where the Birkmans were waiting for me.

The meal was interesting, to say the least. While I devoured four bowls of chili, it seemed like they never shut up. In the course of an hour, I learned that David was sixteen and had just gotten his driver's license, Annie was visiting from college, it was a Saturday, Mr. Birkman was out helping fix a friend's furnace, they had a few animals around the place, and a slew of other things that had absolutely no relevance to anything at all.

When lunch was over, David and Annie went out to retrieve the firewood, and I slinked upstairs. My claws shot out as soon as I locked the door to Annie's room. I couldn't stop myself—there were soon pillow kebabs on the bed. The Birkmans meant well, I was sure, but holy crap, they were irritating.

My phone rang, and I picked up without checking the number. "Hello?"

"Steph—don't hang up on me!"

"What do you want, Simone?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Why do you care?"

"Just where are you?!" She sounded genuinely panicked.

"Just south of Chicago."

I heard her suck in a breath. "You need to get out of there."

"Why?" I stabbed the wall, leaving three holes. "Why do you even care?"

"Because, Steph, you're in a ton of danger right now."

"Really. I'm a mutant on the run and I'm in _danger_. Tell me something I don't know."

"It's Mom, Steph. She's coming after you."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry again for the weirdness...I'm willing to bet I wrote this at about midnight. xD  
And yes, I know the last bit was pathetic...there shall be a new chapter up soon, hopefully with redeeming factors.  
I'm actually just gonna go ahead and apologize for certain remaining chapters. You can pick the ones you dislike most and picture me at your feet begging for forgiveness. Because, honestly, some of the ones that are ahead are pretty bad. xP  
But anyhow.  
Reviews make me happy. =D**


	23. Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?

I laughed. "Do you realize just how _pathetic_ that sounded?"

"Yeah, I know, but seriously! I heard her and my dad talking a few nights ago. She said she had been tracking you and she was going to…to…"

"Kill me?"

"I think so."

I stopped pacing the room. "So let me get this straight. Your _mother_, Mrs. Irena Westerfield, who has never so much as squashed a mosquito in my sight, who might as well have been _my_ mother for all the time I spent at your place, has suddenly turned vigilante-justice-psychopath-freak hunter on me."

Simone was silent.

"That's absolutely _crazy!_" I yelled, picturing her wincing as she jerked the phone away from her ear.

Someone knocked on the door. May. "Peyton? You alright?"

"Um, yeah…just talking on the phone…no worries."

"Okay…let me know if you need anything."

_On your life._

Simone's voice came back. "Who was that?"

"Just the person whose house I'm in." I sat down on the bed. "She's seriously way too happy."

"I can prove that my mom's out for you."

_That_ came out of left field. "Do so."

"She said two days ago that she was going to visit some friends in Illinois…the Birkmans."

I froze. "Holy crap."

"Is that where you are?"

"Yeah…how'd you know?"

"I heard May's voice. You need to get out of there,_ now_."

"Yeah, okay, but how do you know she's not just visiting her friends?"

"Try the fact that she snuck off in the middle of the night, and add the fact that she was the one who made me turn you in."

"She knew?!"

"Yeah. She must've heard us that night you came over after your claws showed up."

A car pulled up in the driveway. I looked out the window to see Irena Westerfield getting out of it and going up to the front door. May answered it with a cheery "Irena! So good to see you!"

"Simone…" I whispered shakily, "she's here."

Silence. Then one word—

"Run."

I didn't waste any time. I grabbed my backpack and opened the window. Just before I hung up, I said one last thing. "Simone?"

"Yeah?"

"I swear, if you're making a joke, I will come to your house and murder you in your sleep." With that, our conversation ended, and I was out the window.

Mrs. Westerfield had already gone in the house with May, so I bolted for the middle of the field and for freedom. My bare feet hit small rocks and other sharp things in the ground, but I didn't care. I just needed to get out of there.

By the time I made it out to the main road, I had a wicked awful stitch in my side, and my feet were getting cut and blistered as fast as they could heal themselves.

But at least I was safe. Away from the creepy-happy Birkmans, away from their pseudo-farm, away from Irena Westerfield. I hoped.

I _really_ hoped that Simone was wrong about her mother, but my instincts quickly told my hope to shut up. Optimism and benefit of the doubt would get me killed.

I was still pretty tired, so I barely followed the road into suburbia before I was too beat to go any farther.

That was when I heard the voice.

"Hello, Stephanie."

I hadn't run far enough.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I couldn't find it in me to make Steph suffer any more at the Birkmans. They were just too perky. Uggh. xP  
Beware weirdness in upcoming chapters.  
Oh, and you remember the guy that Logan killed way back when? Mentioned in chapter six? Go refresh your memory if you need to.  
All I'm gonna say is watch out. -evil grin-  
Annnnd now I've built it up so much that y'all are gonna be disappointed. xD**


	24. Mad Ninja Skillz

I turned to see Mrs. Westerfield, grinning smugly at me. Only she wasn't the kind, friendly Halle Berry anymore. She had totally changed.

She was in all black, like a ninja, with her hair partially pulled back in a braid. The rest of it was blowing around in the wind. There was also a gun in her left hand, and it was pointed at me.

Great.

"So, what now, instead of being a normal person, you're some psychopath bounty hunter vigilante out to rid the world of teenage mutants?" It was very tempting to add 'ninja turtles,' but my better judgment kicked in.

She laughed. "No, just you."

I started backing up. "Aww, that makes me feel so special. I'm flattered, really." Sarcasm was my best defense—if I bolted or let the claws out, she'd start shooting, and I didn't think I could hold up to a direct hit. Even with the uber-healing ability. I was _really_ up a creek. "How did you find me?" I was doing my best to seem calm. Cool. Collected. Like I was _not_ about to lose my mind.

She smiled, and the image of a vampire popped in my head. "I have my ways."

"That is such a stereotypical villain thing to say."

She wasn't fazed. Crap.

"You know, you don't really have to kill me…I could just run off to Canada or something." I had 'FAIL' written all over my face, and we both knew it. "Why are you so set on this, anyway?"

Her jaw clenched, but she kept the gun trained on me. "Freaks like you are the ones responsible for the state of things now."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far…" I was still edging away.

"I would," she snapped. "Read the headlines—mutants killed Senator Kelly, mutants attacked Long Island, mutants nearly killed the President. And mutants were responsible for everything that's gone wrong for me."

Oh, I see. We are grand, aren't we? Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, Maitre. I'm off to play the grand piano. "Care to enlighten me?"

She raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "You mean your mother never told you?"

"Told me that you were a female Hitler? No, I don't think so." Wherever this snark was coming from, I didn't want it to disappear.

Her eyes blazed. "Sixteen years ago, to the day, a man by the name of Charlie Abrams was found dead in a small town park in upper Michigan. Murdered.

"The autopsy determined that he had died from three identical knife wounds in his chest. All had entered at the same time, at approximately the same angle.

"An eyewitness couldn't identify the killer—the face had been in shadows—but stated that he had apparently been holding three switchblades in each hand. Upon further investigation, the 'switchblades' were discovered to be adamantium claws. The killer was a mutant.

"They never caught him, but the killer was unmistakably your father."

I bristled. It was the same story Mom had told me almost four years ago. But…"What does that have to do with you?"

Her jaw tightened further. "Charlie Abrams was my brother. My _twin_ brother."

Holy crap.

"I wanted revenge, but I haven't been able to track Logan down. I did, however, find you, which is just as good. If not better." She saw my bewildered look. "When I kill you, it will be just as bad for him as Charlie's death was for me. Worse."

_Some_one had been watching too much James Bond lately.

She aimed the gun at my head, and my claws reflexively came out. We must've looked quite amusing, now that I think of it—a middle-aged female ninja with a gun and a teenager in beat-up clothes with bone claws. But I had a plan. Sort of.

I saw her arm steady, and her finger tightened on the trigger. I had one shot at this, one chance to pull it off. If my math—alright, my guesses—were off, I was dead.

The gun fired, and I could feel the bullet whiz over my head as I ducked, slid, and slashed at Irena's feet. The claws hit home, and she dropped the gun as she grabbed her bleeding ankles. She'd been an idiot not to wear boots. I jumped up and kicked the weapon into the bushes on the side of the road. Things were slightly more even now.

Except I wasn't counting on the fact that she might have ninja skills to go with the outfit.

She was suddenly in front of me, punching me in the face. I landed hard on my back, and she put her foot on my throat, blood running down onto it.

I was so dead.

She leaned over my face, smiling triumphantly. "You know, Stephanie, it's almost a shame to kill you. You were like a daughter to me."

"Then why are you?" I gasped.

"So he knows how it feels." She pressed down harder on my throat, choking off my air supply. I tried feebly to fight back, but she was too strong.

Just before all my senses shorted out, I heard an animalistic roar, and the pressure on my throat was released.

I didn't stick around to see who my savior was. I got up on my hands and knees, snagged my backpack, and crawled into the bushes as fast as I could, coughing all the way.

Once I was out of sight of the road, I slumped back against a tree. I had just escaped death, and it was taking some time to register. One thing was sure, though.

I was never, ever coming back to Illinois.

------------

The next day, I caught a glimpse of a headline—

**WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN CHICAGO SUBURB**

I didn't read any farther.

* * *

**A/N: I told you...-evil grin-  
And by the way--that epic line consisting of "Oh, I see. We are grand, aren't we? Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, Maitre. I'm off to play the grand piano" isn't mine...it's shamelessly ripped off from a Monty Python sketch called "Flying Lessons." Go look it up, it's hysterical. xD**


	25. Roam If You Want To

I spent the next year traversing the country.

From Chicago, I took a bus to Indianapolis, where I ended up for most of February.

My fourteenth birthday was in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

I was in Charlotte, North Carolina for April and the first part of May. But by May 25th, I was in Kansas City, Missouri, where I felt a sudden craving for a movie. So I sneaked into the third Pirates of the Caribbean. I swear, Johnny Depp must be a shapeshifter mutant; it's incredible how many people he can become.

June was spent in Iowa and Minnesota.

I celebrated July 4th at Mount Rushmore.

In August, I was on my way to Canada via Montana, and by September, I had made it. I figured I should go back again, since I hadn't really stayed long last time.

By October I was back in the U.S. and heading for warmer weather in New Mexico, which I got to by taking multiple buses and sneaking onto a produce truck.

I celebrated Thanksgiving in Phoenix, Arizona, and Christmas in San Francisco. I even went out to Alcatraz. Creepy place.

I wish I could've made it to New York City for New Years' Eve, but I didn't, so I spent it in Los Angeles. I also tried to sneak up to the Hollywood letters, but that didn't work out too well.

In January, I was in a very cold and rainy Seattle. Soon I was desperate for better weather, so I started heading for the South, which I hadn't quite made it to before.

After hopping a few buses, trains, and hotwiring a car, I was in New Orleans on Tuesday, February 5th, also known as Mardi Gras. Holy crap, it was crazy, even for me. I got out ASAP.

In the space of a year, I'd been almost arrested five times. They had never managed to catch me, though, and each time had taught me something different. I was now a master—and highly pursued—fugitive. The anti-mutants were still looking for me, remember.

With each city I entered, I created a new identity. In Phoenix, for example, I was a charismatic teenager visiting family for the holidays. In San Francisco, I was moody and slightly artsy. Preppy, punk, geek, emo—I played them all.

Needless to say, my acting skills improved a great deal.

And then, there was March 15th.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of action and excitement in this chapter, but it was needed to move the story along.**


	26. Today's Your Birthday

I spent my fifteenth birthday in Atlanta, Georgia.

It rained. No, it didn't _just_ rain. It was a bloody _deluge_, so bad that I briefly entertained the idea of building an ark. Yeah, didn't happen.

So I spent the majority of the day under a bridge, freezing my butt off.

Happy birthday to me.

I had been in Atlanta for about a week, and was working on figuring out the best places to get food and to sleep. There were places that would give you dinner, but no way to stock up on food. So I had trained myself to rely on one meal a day. Actually, I had done that a long time ago, but oh well, details.

It still didn't work out very well. I was a teenager—and a mutant to boot—so I needed more food than your av-er-age bear. ((What?! Got a problem with Yogi Bear?!))

I finally decided that I might as well walk around the city some more, see what it had that I hadn't seen yet. I threw my jacket's hood up over my head and slogged off for the middle of the city. Or something like that.

I passed a group of kids about my age walking in the rain and wearing black trash bags as raincoats. They were laughing and splashing each other in the puddles. Who knew what they were doing out in this weather. They disappeared into a Starbucks, and I was alone again.

I toyed with the idea of walking into one of the city's posh hotels, or sitting down in some upscale restaurant, but decided against it. However funny it may have been, they probably would've called the cops to get the soaking wet homeless girl out of their lobby. ((And I didn't really want to ruin my perfect non-arrest record, now did I?))

That was another thing—people always assumed that, since I looked like some kind of hobo, I was automatically someone to stay away from. That I would kill them in a heartbeat. Which wasn't true. I wasn't above stealing their stuff—actually, I was pretty good at it—but I wasn't about to stab someone without being provoked first.

Even now, with only a few fellow lunatics outside in the rain, they were giving my dirty looks.

Bloody stereotypes. I wanted to scream at them, saying "I'm just like you, alright?! I'm not a bad person; I've just had bad luck! I'm _normal!_"

Except I couldn't.

---------

I was so lost in my thought that I didn't notice the black trash bag group emerging from the Starbucks until one of them started talking to me.

"Hey," she said, "are you alright?"

I looked up at her. Apart from the trash bag, she seemed perfectly normal. Nothing to set off my danger alarm. "Why do you ask?"

"You've just been standing out here in the pouring rain since before we went inside. I just wanted to see how you were."

I was startled. Here was this complete stranger, probably a preppy back home, actually asking me about myself and being completely sincere. I knew when people were lying, and she _wasn't_.

"Come on, Caity!" A guy in the group called. "We gotta get back!"

The girl—Caity—rolled her eyes. "Gimmie a sec, Jay!"

"No, seriously! Kyle said we have to go!"

"Fine, I'm coming!" She started to go, but turned back to me. "Why don't you walk with us?"

I quickly weighed the options. Like I said, I could tell when people were lying, and these people were being totally honest. And from the looks of it, they were going somewhere dry. It sure beat standing in the rain. Besides, if they _did_ end up being trouble, I had my claws.

"We're gonna serve dinner in a little while," Caity added.

That sealed it for me. "Sure." I followed them as they went on their way.

Caity smiled, a genuine smile, not like the ones I had seen on Mystique's and Irena Westerfield's faces. "So, you never answered my question. How are you?"

"I'm cold, wet, and hungry. Not exactly the best way to spend my birthday."

"It's your birthday?"

"Yeah, number fifteen. Yippee."

She looked surprised. "You've got to be the youngest person I've ever met here."

I smirked. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"No, I mean downtown, doing this."

"What, exactly, _are_ you here for anyway? Or do you guys walk around in the rain for fun?"

Caity laughed. "No, I'm on a mission trip with my church's youth group. It's my third year coming to downtown Atlanta. Today is when we're homeless for a day."

"How're you liking it?"

"It's not that bad, actually, but I've done it before. Jay's a newbie, though." She made a face at his back.

"Not that bad, huh?"

"Not really."

"Try doing it for two years straight."

She gasped. "You've been on the streets for two years?"

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Yeah."

"What about your parents? Do they know where you are?"

"My mom's dead. I haven't seen Dad since I was ten."

"What about relatives?"

I shook my head. "Mom was an only, and I never heard of any on Dad's side." Probably for a good reason.

"That's horrible…" she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

I shrugged, not saying anything. One of the guys came over and walked with us. "Hey, Caity, who's your friend?"

"Oh, hey, Mitch, she was just standing outside Starbucks, and since we're here to hang with the homeless people, I invited her to come with us. Kyle told me he'd spotted her around town last week. She never told me her name, though." They both looked at me inquisitively.

"Ren." I hadn't been Ren since the incident in D.C. I also hadn't been paying attention to current events, so I didn't know where Magneto and the others were, or even if they were still up to things.

"Is it short for something?" Mitch asked.

I thought fast, changing the story a little. "Yeah, actually. Peregrine. My parents were a little addicted to Lord of the Rings. At least I'm not something like Galadriel."

He laughed, and Caity continued quizzing me. "How long have you been in Atlanta?"

"A while…" I answered, closing up again.

"Oh…okay."

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Right here." They turned and entered a parking lot by a small two-story building. The paint was peeling off of the green metal sign, though, so I couldn't read it very well. The rain had let up, fortunately, and the kids were taking their trash bag raincoats off.

It was getting dark, though, and I was getting antsy. Even though I'd been on the run for two years, I still didn't really like being out at night. Too many creepy people. I was fully capable of defending myself, but still…

I edged out of the parking lot, trying not to be seen, but Mitch and Caity spotted me. Crap.

"Hey!" she called. "Aren't you going to get dinner?"

"They give it out for free," he added.

As tempting as that offer was, I shook my head fiercely, sending water spraying everywhere. "I'm fine. I gotta go; I don't like being out at night."

"Are you sure?" Mitch looked concerned.

"Positive." I tried to get away again.

"There's others coming…homeless, I mean."

I gave him a look. "Look, you don't get it. I'm a fugitive, and the cops are looking for me _every_where."

"So are a lot—probably most—of these guys."

_Yeah, but they aren't freaks._ "Mitch, I'm just warning you—I'm dangerous when people piss me off. Or when I'm around a large group of people. Especially if I don't know them. So if there are any brains left in you, you'll let me leave before I go schizophrenic psychopath on everyone." It was very tempting to bare the fangs, but I didn't.

"Okay…" He stepped back, then added, "You should come back sometime. This is a good place."

"Mm-hmm." I ran out into the night, slowing down to a walk as soon as I was out of their sight.

Bad idea.

A couple of local gang members noticed me as I walked past where they were lurking. "Hey, baby, where you goin'?"

I shot them a dirty look and kept going.

Except they followed me, whistling and saying "Hey, what you doin' tonight?" and "C'mon, baby, come back here."

Disgusting.

I was no longer paying attention to where I was going, and before I knew it, they had split up and cornered me in an alleyway.

They came closing, leering and smiling menacingly.

"Back off!" I snarled. "Leave me alone!"

They didn't.

At least, not until they saw my claws shoot out of my hands. "I said, _back off._" I glared at each of them in turn.

They stared at me, speechless for once. Then one of them spoke up. "She's a mutant, boys!" They all laughed, and two of them ran forward and grabbed my arms as I raised them to try and fend the gang off.

Things had just gone from bad to worse.

I snarled again and tried to fight my way out of their grip, but it didn't work. Neither did biting them.

The gang leader swaggered forward. I didn't let my mind think any further than the present; I only bared my fangs and snapped at him.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The two gang members holding my arms let go and fell forward, blood running down their necks.

They were stone dead.

The leader had a terrified expression on his face as he looked over my shoulder. He turned tail and ran, quickly followed by the rest of his gang.

I turned around to see what they had been so scared of. Behind me stood…

* * *

**A/N: Oh, I just so totally left y'all with a cliffhanger. WHAT now. xD Speculate about Steph's rescuer all you want; as of now, only _I_ know.  
Oh, the power, the absolute POWER!! -diabolical laughter-**


	27. The Chapter You've All Been Waiting For

Behind me stood the man in the long black coat who had been following me in Canada. It had been two years, but I still recognized him. Guess I hadn't killed him after all.

He was tall, taller than Dad by about an inch or so, which would put him at 6' 3" to my 5' 8". He looked to be on the younger side of middle-aged, but simultaneously older, too, with short, dark hair.

To go with the feral look in his eyes, he had claws.

Not claws like mine, though. His were more cat-like, curling out like long fingernails. Which is pretty much what they were, I guess. They had blood on them from killing the gang members.

"Thanks…" I muttered, retracting my own claws.

"No problem," he shot back. Not necessarily angrily, just slightly cynically. His voice sounded almost like a tiger's would, if a tiger could talk. "I've been looking for you."

Great, just what I needed. Someone following me everywhere, like that song by the Police. "Might I ask why?"

"No."

I liked this guy. "Can you at least tell me who you are?"

Now it was his turn to sheath his claws, leaving only abnormally long—but otherwise ordinary—fingernails. "Creed. Victor Creed."

Hm. "Well, _Vicky,_ I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself; no need for bodyguard stalkers."

He growled, showing off fangs like mine. "What was that just now, then?"

"An exception."

Victor laughed, not like he thought it was funny, but that "you've got a lot to learn" superior-type laugh. "You remind me of my brother."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is this a good thing?"

"Occasionally."

"Is he a freak like you?"

"No," he said, looking at me again, "he's more like you. Claws in the hands. Six of them."

My eyes widened. "Are his metal?"

"Yeah, adamantium," Victor spat. "Indestructible."

"I know him."

He looked at me like he didn't believe me. "Really."

I nodded. "He's my dad."

Victor's expression was priceless. I wish I had taken a picture of it, it was that awesome. I almost started laughing, but something told me that would not have been wise.

When he finally regained his powers of speech, he said "Prove it."

I rolled my eyes. "The claws aren't enough?"

He paused. "I'll give you that one."

"Good."

He laughed the superior laugh again. "You _are_ Jimmy's kid, aren't you?"

"Logan."

"What?"

"His name is Logan."

Victor scoffed. "Only because Stryker shot him in the head and erased his memory. Now it's like he doesn't know anything anymore."

This was new. "Who's Stryker?"

He gave me a look. "Do you ever shut up?"

I smirked. "Not really, no."

"Great, another Wade Wilson." He grit his teeth. "Come on, there's a lot you need to learn."

I followed his skulking form warily. Victor didn't exactly seem like the most honest guy ((for lack of a better word,)) but something told me that this time, he was telling the truth. He _was_ Dad's brother. I had barely even gotten to know my dad, but from what I _did_ know, these two were so much like each other that it was scary.

But like it or not, he was the only way I was ever going to get any answers, or even just quit running all the time.

Still…

We were either going to get along great, or end up killing each other.

* * *

**A/N: Chyeah, it's Victor. WHAT now! xD  
Sorry about the shortness of this chapter ((and for the ending))...but at least you know who won the poll. =D  
To all Remy LeBeau fans...he may or may not show up later. This _is_ Gambit we're talking about here.  
Annnnnd now I order you all to go watch the Thriller music video.**


	28. History of the World, My Love

To anyone looking out their windows or watching as we passed them on the street, Victor and I must've looked pretty intimidating.

Well, Victor would've, anyway. Skulking along in his long black coat with a perpetual glare and long, sharp fingernails, he practically oozed fear ((for lack of a better term.))

And then, there was me. In beat-up jeans, a t-shirt, black hoodie, and barefoot. I almost had to run to keep up with Victor's long stride.

Not quite the same effect.

We were heading out of the downtown area. I got the feeling that he didn't much like being caged in, and that's exactly what a city did.

I caught up with him again. "So, Vicky—"

He growled. "Don't call me that."

"What was it you had to tell me, exactly?"

"About what?"

"My dad…?"

He rolled his eyes. "If I tell you, will you shut up?"

"I haven't said anything since I started following you!"

"Yeah, well, I may want to redeem it sometime in the future."

"Fine." I glared at his back, then dashed up beside him. "Shoot."

Victor started chipping at his nails with a pocketknife. "Back in 1845 is when James and I found out we were mutants. He was ten, I was thirteen. Our father broke in, killed the stepfather. Jim got real pissed, the claws came out, and he killed the man. That's when we had to start running.

"We had some healing ability that let us take fatal shots like they were pinpricks. So we're more or less immortal. Fought in every war from the American Civil War to Vietnam."

"What happened in Vietnam?"

He grinned slightly. "I killed a senior officer, and Jim dared to defend me. We were executed but…it didn't really take.

"Major Stryker found us in the prison and recruited us for some all-mutant 'team.' It was me, Jimmy, a teleporter named John Wraith, marksman called Zero, electrokinetic Chris Bradley, mercenary Wade Wilson—who also never shut up—and Fred."

"What did he do?"

Victor paused. "I don't really know. Anyway, Stryker was looking for adamantium in Africa, but Jimmy bailed when we had orders to kill everyone in a village because they wouldn't tell us where it was.

"We found the adamantium, but everyone just went their own way. Except me and Wilson. Stryker kept Wilson around to experiment on, and me to get DNA from other mutants and then kill them. That was always the best part." He grinned evilly.

"Why?"

"Because you can feel how afraid they are. You see it in their eyes, even before you snap, and—"

"No, why were you collecting DNA?"

"Oh." He coughed. "Stryker wanted to create the ultimate weapon. So he kept Wilson, stitched his mouth shut, and started experimenting on him. Adding abilities and such.

"Meanwhile, he had me kill Jim's girlfriend—or that's what it looked like to him, anyway—which got Jim so antagonized that he went back to Stryker and got his bones reinforced with adamantium. He was just another experiment, though. Stryker wanted to see if it was possible for anyone to survive it. Obviously, it is.

"But Stryker and I had an agreement—I'd get Jimmy to him for the adamantium, and then he'd do the same thing for me. Make me indestructible."

"But he didn't."

"No." Victor's eyes were blazing. "He ran off while Jimmy and I were busy dealing with Wilson—or Weapon XI—so I never got to kill him. Haven't seen him since."

"What about my dad?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Haven't seen him, either. He wouldn't remember me, anyway. Like I said, Stryker shot him in the head to erase his memory."

We went along in silence for a while. It must've been at least ten o'clock by now.

I decided to ask Victor again. "Why were you following me?"

"What was my answer before?"

"You didn't say."

"Same thing now."

It was so dark now that I didn't even know where we were. Victor was still storming forward like he could keep going all night. This, when you think about it, was probably true.

I caught up with him again. "Just one more question."

He growled. "What?"

"Did you kill Irena Westerfield?"

"Who?" He looked slightly confused.

"Irena Westerfield. Apparently she had been tracking me, and she finally found me in Illinois. She was about to kill me when someone tackled her and offed her instead."

Victor thought for a minute. "Never heard of her."

"Are you sure?"

"I remember _everyone_ I've killed. And _I_ didn't kill anyone who was trying to kill _you_ in Illinois."

"Oh, so you were behaving yourself."

He growled again. "I didn't have to save you, you know."

"You couldn't have lived with yourself if you hadn't."

"Trust me, I could."

I knew that I should quit bothering him, but I couldn't resist. "You know what, Vicky, you're right. You're so hardcore and awesome like that, I'm shocked that you're even allowing me to breathe your air."

That completely pushed him over the edge. All ten claws came out; he bared his teeth and swiped at my face. I dodged and took off running. This was too much fun.

Until he caught me, that is.

He had dropped to all fours and was running like a cat, cementing in my mind that the man was a human feline. He dug his claws into the backs of my legs, taking me down. I looked up and there he was, claws poised above my throat, ready to strike.

"I could kill you right now," he said through clenched teeth.

"No you couldn't," I replied.

"It's not a matter of guilt."

"You're absolutely right. It's a matter of me having the same freaky healing abilities you and Dad have." I grinned.

"Damn." He glared at me and let me go, then stormed off. I followed him, keeping my distance. Despite how much fun it was to pester Victor, it required a lot of time for him to cool off, both for best results and for staying alive.

But now a new thought was buzzing around in my head—

If Victor hadn't killed Irena Westerfield, who had?

And where were we going, anyway?

* * *

**A/N: Told you they might end up killing each other. Except for that pesky little regeneration detail. -shakes head-  
Oh yeah, big thank you to icanreadyourmind for saying "Haha, I can so see Stephanie calling Victor 'Vicky' to ** him off... cat fight!! Lol ;)"  
That pretty much sealed the whole 'Victor or Gambit' thing for me. Along with making me laugh. xD  
So once again, thank you, mi amiga. :)**


	29. The Grand Master Plan

The next day, we were still going forward. Victor had finally stopped after I somehow managed to wander out into the middle of the interstate. He'd yanked me out of the way just before a car hit me.

I would've loved to know what was going through those people's minds.

Now I was more awake, but I couldn't tell if Victor was or not. The man was incredible; it was like he never ran out of power.

So, having let him cool down some, I ran up beside him and asked him again. "Why were you following me?"

His jaw clenched. "When will you quit asking that?"

"When you give me an answer."

Silence. Then—

"Fine." He was having a hard time keeping his temper under control. Obviously I hadn't left him alone long enough. "I was following you because someone was paying me to. He wanted me to catch you and bring you back." He laughed darkly. "Not as easy as it sounds."

"Well, I try to make it that way."

"Yeah, and you're not that bad at it. But no number of different identities can throw someone like me. I finally found you by following a scent."

He had to be joking.

"No joke."

Oh. "Steph Howlett."

"What, is that another one of your aliases?"

"No, that's my real name."

"Hm." There was no emotion in his voice.

We walked on, not speaking. I had no idea where Victor was going, but he obviously did. Which, I suppose, was a good thing. Wouldn't want to follow someone who got lost easily.

A thought crossed my mind. "Who sent you after me?"

"An old man called Erick McKellen. Why?"

Magneto. "I know him."

"Really." He raised an eyebrow.

I nodded. "Met him two years ago in D.C. Him and two of his accomplices, a pyro named John and a shapeshifter named Mystique."

"Any idea what they'd want with you now?"

"I'm willing to bet that Mystique wants my head on a silver plate."

Victor stopped. "I've got a better idea."

I rolled my eyes. "And what would that be, oh wise and powerful one?"

He grinned. "Instead of turning you in to McKellen and me getting paid and leaving you to be beheaded, we go find Stryker and see what he offers to turn _them_ in. He's always looking for more mutants to experiment on."

_This_ was Victor's master plan? "I thought you hated Stryker because he wouldn't give you the adamantium."

"He will now, if he wants more guinea pigs. He'll make me indestructible, or he dies."

I considered. "And what about me?"

"No decapitation."

"That works."

Victor desperately wanted the adamantium.

I desperately wanted to live outside of my teens.

We were in D.C. within three weeks.

((Talk about motivation…))

* * *

**A/N: Gaah, I thought this chapter was longer. =/ Oh well, who cares. Anyhow, I'm going to apologize for anything that Victor said/says that seems OOC...just in case. Mwah ha ha, and all that.  
Also, there's a new poll on my profile. It's not about anything major, just a little extra that I thought y'all would want. So...go vote. Now. =D**


	30. Someone Needs A Manicure

The man behind the desk didn't even glance up from his work as he sensed someone approaching him. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't see Colonel Stryker unless you have an appointment."

_Oh, so he's a _colonel_ now…_"I don't need one."

The man looked up in surprise. No one had talked back to him like that since…well, since before he could remember.

Both of the newcomer's hands were on the desk, and the assistant noticed that he had abnormally long fingernails. "Sir, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"I need to see Stryker."

"Sir—"

"_Now._" The newcomer bared sharp fangs, and his fingernails grew into cat-like claws that dug into the desk.

The assistant knew to choose his battles wisely, and this wasn't one of them. "W-whom shall I tell him is here?"

The newcomer's snarl turned into a wicked grin. "Victor Creed."

* * *

**A/N: Oh, it's agonizingly short, isn't it? It's only because ((in my mind, anyway)) the next chapter is going to be on the long-ish side...notice I said 'ish' so don't sue me if it's not. Dx  
And I can also officially say that there are only eight more chapters to go now. Much sorrow? Much rejoicing? Much eating of potato chips? -shrug-**


	31. The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Getting in to see Stryker was the easy part.

Waiting around until we could actually _talk_ to him was harder. Keeping two people waiting for a long time isn't exactly smart. Keeping two _mutants_ waiting is worse.

Keeping two mutants who have extremely short tempers waiting is probably the worst idea anyone could ever have.

By the time they finally let us in, we were seriously pissed. We'd been out there for at least two hours.

From Victor's depiction, I was expecting Stryker to be tall and strong. Intimidating. The very embodiment of the United States Armed Forces.

Well, he wasn't.

He was short and balding, with glasses and a short beard. Basically, he looked harmless. But, as always, looks could be deceiving.

From the moment Victor stepped into the office, he had Stryker's full attention. "Victor?"

"Stryker," he growled back. "I'm surprised you're still alive."

"What brings you back after all these years?"

As Victor and the colonel began talking, I started looking around the room. There wasn't much, just a few pictures and some shelves…

----------

"You're different," Victor said.

Stryker half-grinned. "Hanging around mutants tends to do that."

"Whatever happened to your guinea pig, Wilson? You were experimenting on him back then."

The colonel's face hardened. "He disappeared after you and James killed him on Three Mile Island, the damn coward."

"I'd say he's smarter than we gave him credit for, then." Victor started chipping his nails ominously. "So who'd you start 'testing' then, Weapon Twelve?" Sarcasm was dripping from his words.

----------

I looked at one of the pictures. The photo showed Stryker, a woman, and a little boy with one blue eye and one green eye.

The colonel had a family?

----------

Stryker's only answer was a sly grin as he leaned back in his chair.

"You experimented on yourself?" For the first time in years, Victor was incredulous.

Stryker nodded, still grinning. "How else did you think I was able to stay alive all this time and still look as if I haven't aged a day?"

This was the most insane thing Victor had ever heard.

"Your brother even tried to kill me a few years ago."

"Can't imagine why."

Stryker laughed, but the mutant's stare cut him off. "It didn't work, obviously. There were some side effects to the experiment, though…changed appearance, mild schizophrenia…"

----------

The colonel laughed about something, but stopped abruptly. Victor was doing a good job at being intimidating, as usual.

I picked up another picture. This one showed Stryker in a tuxedo and the woman from the other photo in a wedding gown. I wiped some of the dust off with my fingers. It was an older photo, though I couldn't tell how old, exactly.

Stryker must've finally spotted me, because the next thing I heard was his voice saying "Put that down right now, young lady." I glanced over to see that, yes, Stryker had indeed noticed me and was glaring in my general direction.

"Sorry…" I put the picture down and wandered over next to Victor.

"Creed, who is that?" the colonel asked fiercely.

I answered for myself. "Steph Howlett, all-out freak."

Stryker raised an eyebrow and looked at Victor, who shrugged.

"Jimmy's daughter."

"I see." He gave me a quick look. "And what makes you such a 'freak,' Miss…Howlett?"

"Oh, the usual," I replied casually. "Fangs, superior healing ability, claws in my hands, all that jazz." My claws came out obligingly.

"Just like your father."

"No," I said, sheathing the claws. "I'm significantly more social than him. And I have better hair."

Colonel Stryker had obviously lost his sense of humor somewhere along the road. He just kind of stared at me.

"She's one of the reasons we're here," Victor added, and I put on my best innocent face. "The Brotherhood's after he, and she says they want her dead."

"They were paying Victor to bring me back to them, but instead we decided to come here to see how much you'd offer."

Stryker looked skeptical. "What, for you?"

"No." Victor and I grinned simultaneously. "For them."

He turned in his chair, momentarily speechless. Then he said, "I see what she gets—she doesn't die—but what's in it for you, Creed?"

"Simple—I want the adamantium."

"Adamantium?"

"You heard me."

"Victor, I told you thirty years ago, you couldn't handle it!"

He slammed his hands on the colonel's desk. "And I told _you_ I could handle anything my brother could."

They stared fiercely at each other, neither of them willing to move on the matter. Finally, Stryker stood up. "What makes you think you two could bring them in?"

Victor gave him a 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "It's _me, _Stryker."

"True. But what about her?"

I bristled. "I've killed people before!"

Victor gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, me."

"She couldn't do it. She's not the type."

"How do you know?" I shot back angrily.

"Just by looking at you, Miss Howlett. And by listening to you. You couldn't." Suddenly Stryker was behind me, wrenching my arm behind my back painfully. I screamed and stabbed at him with the claws on my other hand, but they never made contact.

"Let her go, Stryker," Victor snarled, his nails curling into his own claws.

Stryker twisted my arm harder, and I felt my shoulder pop out of its socket. I stabbed harder, but hit only air.

"She's weak," he said, "she breaks. She couldn't handle meeting Death face to face on a daily basis like you."

Victor was growling now. "I said, let her _go._"

I gave up trying to stab Stryker and instead kicked him where it hurt, hard. He let go of my arm, doubling over in pain. In an instant, I had him down on the floor, looking up at me as I whipped my good arm down, the claws against his bare neck.

"Care to bet on that?" I seethed. Victor had been right—I enjoyed feeling the fear in Stryker's eyes, the fear coming from every bit of his face.

"It would seem," the colonel finally said, "that I was wrong about you."

"Got that right."

"Now, if you'll let me up, we can continue our…negotiations."

I grudgingly let Stryker up, and he sat back down at his desk. I was a little freaked out—he'd recovered faster than I'd expected.

"You alright?" Victor asked, the most emotion I'd ever seen from him.

I popped my shoulder back in place. "Yeah."

"Good." We both stared at Stryker, we cleared his throat.

"Here's the deal—bring me any mutants you want. Not just the Brotherhood, any mutant. When you've brought in enough—_by my standards—_that's when Victor gets the adamantium."

"And me?" I asked.

Stryker looked at me. "You don't die and you get to bring in the Brotherhood, isn't that enough?"

I stared him straight in the eye. "For now."

"Good. So we have an agreement?"

I looked up at Victor, who was also staring Stryker in the eye. "If you go back on this again, I swear, you're going to wake up one morning to find yourself dead."

A flicker of a smirk crossed the colonel's face. "I'll take that as a yes."

Minutes later, we were back out on the streets. But this time, we were looking for freaks.

Freaks like us.

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone else notice that Stryker looked about the same age in Origins AND X2? Possibly younger in X2? And X2 is supposed to be thirty/forty-someodd years later? Would Stryker even be alive then? 'Twas slightly baffling, so I explained it meself. If y'all have any theories, lemme know. And no, I don't want the whole 'different actor' thing. -rawrface-  
As for the chapter title, it should be obvious who's who. ;)**


	32. Ev'rybody Was Kung Fu Fightin'

"First thing you have to learn," Victor said, "is how to fight."

"I know how to fight."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? If Stryker had tried that on me—or anyone _else_, for that matter—he'd be dead."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead and rub it in that you've been around a hundred and sixty-one years longer than me."

"Under other circumstances, I would. But unless you learn how to defend yourself, you're dead."

I sighed. "Whatever you say, Vicky."

Suddenly he lunged at me, fangs bared and claws out. I instinctively whipped my hands up to block my face, my claws bracing against his.

He grinned. "Good." He swiveled and swiped at my ankles, but I dodged clumsily. I put my hands up, ready for his next attack.

Except he was behind me now, and his next swipe caught the back of my head. "Always keep your eye on your enemy."

I whirled and jabbed at his chest, but he just swatted my hand away and smiled menacingly. He was having way too much fun.

By this time, a rather large crowd had gathered and was watching us duke it out. Someone even had a video camera. I froze just as Victor's claws tore through my hoodie and into my arm. I landed a slap on his hand with a solid _thwack_ as my claws retracted.

"What are you doing?!" he spat. "If you're not going to listen, you might as well—" He finally noticed the people around us, among them some men who looked suspiciously like they were in law enforcement.

I don't think I've ever seen his fingernails return to normal that quickly, before or since. We both stood up straight, Victor trying to keep his composure and me sending him furious mental messages along the lines of 'Don't you dare maul them,' even though neither of us were telepaths.

"Well…" I said out loud. "This is awkward."

"No, _really,_" he hissed back. "What gave that away?"

The crowd was staring back at us, mostly slack-jawed. A few people were still taking pictures. "Mommy, are they _mutants_?" a little boy asked loudly.

That snapped us back to reality, and we took off running, Victor snapping at anyone who got in our way.

Note to self ((and Victor)): Fighting, even for practice, in the middle of the street is not exactly the wisest idea, especially when you're right in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

* * *

**A/N: Bonus points if you figure out what year Vicky was born in. It took me about fifteen minutes to work it out...but mental math is not my strong suit.  
Conversely, my brother got it in about 5.3 seconds. O_o**


	33. Patience, Grasshopper

For the next couple of months, Victor kept teaching me how to fight.

"More power behind your punch. Just jabbing like that won't get your claws through paper, much less a person."

"If they've got the advantage in size, you've usually got speed on them. Use it—never stay in one place for too long. Wear them down."

"Under _no circumstances_ are you _ever_ to fall into a pattern. It's called predictability, and it's what got John Wraith—the teleporter—killed."

"Damn it, Steph, _you heal!_ You can take a couple of hits here and there if it's going to eventually give you the upper hand!"

And so on like that, until he deemed me worthy of hunting mutants with him.

Once or twice, at the beginning, I voiced my hesitation about capturing other mutants. After all, they were in the same boat as us. He just gave me that stare, the same one he gave Stryker. The intimidating one that made you look anywhere but his eyes and want to run away as fast as you could.

I didn't say anything after that, and I gradually got used to the idea of turning the mutants in. It took a good while, though, but the whole idea just became another part of my thinking. A mimic in South Carolina? No problem. A kid who could run faster than we could see in Houston? Tricky to catch, but doable. The man who controlled water in Kentucky? Be there A.S.A.P.

We kept going after harder and harder mutants. We didn't always get them—for example, the woman who could blend in with her surroundings—but by May, we were a pretty good team. I had caught some tricky ones on my own, like a teleporter, and even Victor was impressed.

By July, I had dropped the name 'Howlett' and replaced it with 'Creed.' I don't want to say that Victor was becoming like a father to me, because if he ever found out, he'd kill me. I can't think of any other way to put it, though.

English was never my best subject.

We looked like death and death's sidekick. One of the first things we had done was replace my normal, average-color clothes with black—jeans, shirt, even a long coat, so I now fit the whole 'intimidating' bill.

No matter how many we caught, Stryker always wanted more mutants. Victor almost decapitated him once, but I stabbed him in the foot before he could.

Stryker's high demand was the reason we went to New York.

New York is where it all went downhill.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is certainly getting interesting...I'm going to go ahead and warn you that the X-Men will be arriving shortly. This could be good...or it could very well turn sour for all parties.**


	34. Who You Gonna Call? GHOSTBUSTERS!

We finally found one of the Brotherhood.

He was an obnoxious little bugger who called himself Toad. It was obvious why after we saw him snag something out of midair _with his tongue_. He could also stick to walls and stay underwater for an extensive amount of time.

But it wasn't him that gave us trouble. Toad, we caught and sent back to Stryker.

It was the twins. One male, one female. Both had blond hair so pale it was nearly white, and both could shapeshift—the girl into a white wolf, and her brother into a white tiger.

Shapeshifters had always given Victor and me issues before, but we had been tracking these guys for a while. They were about thirteen, and neither of them could heal.

We were watching for them on a balcony above the streets. I was humming, and it was getting on Victor's nerves.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed. Music was obviously not his forte.

"Humming, what does it sound like?" I replied nonchalantly. He gave me a deadpan stare, so I went on. "It's a new single from Coldplay. 'Viva La Vida.' Very nice song; you should check it out sometime."

He put his head in his hands, like he was thinking 'What have I gotten myself in to?'

"Vicky, you're gonna have to spot them. I don't exactly have the eagle eyes over here."

We waited a while longer, me still humming and Victor getting more and more agitated. Finally—

"There. Right below us." He pointed to where the twins were, his claws already extending.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" I jumped off the balcony rail, only slightly twisting my ankle as I landed. I'd been practicing that lately, and it paid off. The twins whirled to face me, surprised looks on their faces.

"Evening, everyone," I said as Victor landed noiselessly beside me. ((He'd obviously looked before he leaped.))

"I got him," he said in a low growl, eyeing the boy.

Cue my claws. "Savvy."

We both pounced at the same time. Well, Victor pounced. I sort of just dove forward, going for the girl's shoulders. She ducked out of the way, and the next thing I knew, there was a massive white wolf snapping at my bare feet.

She managed to get her teeth on my ankle, but it healed quickly. Even in her wolf form, there was a puzzled look in her eyes. I grinned wickedly and stabbed her in her right shoulder. She howled in pain and snapped at my hands.

I looked over and saw that Victor was holding his own against Tiger-Boy, so I danced around the wolf's teeth and stabbed her other shoulder, knocking her over.

Her white fur was turning red as she howled again and tried to get up, only to fall back down. She turned back into her human form, but I quickly raked my claws down the backs of her legs. The wounds weren't fatal, but she screamed like they were.

"Ashley!" The boy was back to his normal form as he ran over to his sister. I noticed that he, too, was bleeding from cuts all over his arms and legs. Some of them looked pretty nasty, too. "Why?" he yelled up at us. "_Why?!_"

I swept my claws down to rest against the back of his neck. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

Victor came up from where he had been standing. "I got 'em. Keep a lookout for me."

I nodded and walked over to the front of the alleyway, watching out for anyone who might make the mistake of coming to see what all the commotion had been.

Had I just done that? Had I just been trying to kill a complete stranger for no particularly good reason? Forget the fact that Stryker wanted them, it still felt…wrong.

I looked down at my claws. They still had the wolf-girl's blood on them.

I had a sudden flashback to that night five years ago, the night that had started all this crap. All of us standing in the kitchen, Dad's metal claws dripping blood on the floor.

I shook my head. _Stay focused, Steph. It's your job, it's what you do. Practice for the Brotherhood, practice for the X-Men, practice for anyone who gets in your way._

Great, now I was talking to myself. Maybe some of the colonel's schizophrenia had rubbed off on me.

Victor came up beside me, claws hidden. "We'd better get them to Stryker tonight. They're still putting up a fight."

"Did you give 'em the tranquilizers?"

He nodded. "They haven't taken effect yet, though."

"'Kay. I'll get a car." I stepped cautiously out of the alley and headed across the street to a bright blue Mazda. I was about to crack the lock and get to work on hotwiring the car when something zapped me from behind. Seriously, that's the only word I can think of to describe it. Zapped.

I shrugged it off and unlocked the car. It would fit all four of us. Barely, but it would. Besides, it would definitely snap Victor out of his inevitable bad mood—he loved sportscars.

There it was again! The zapper was back, and stronger this time. I whirled, but didn't see anyone, so I lifted the hood to examine the engine.

The third zap was strong enough to flip me over onto my back. I shot right back up, ready to impale the culprit.

The culprit, however, turned out to be a tall, thin man with a strange silver mask over his eyes. Next to him was a beautiful African woman with stark white hair.

Neither of them looked pleased.

* * *

**A/N: Told you the X-Men would show up. -cheesygrin- Unfortunately, it's not everybody's favorite bad-tempered amnesiac, but oh well. xP  
Part of me just wants to get the rest of the story uploaded today, but part of me wants to keep y'all in agonizing suspense, like certain famous authors ((I'm lookin' at you, D.J. MacHale.))**


	35. Help! Help! I'm Bein' Repressed!

"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing?" The woman asked.

"Hijacking this car, what does it look like?" I snarked back.

"That's _my_ car," the man said.

"Hm," I said, looking at the vehicle in question. "Good choice. I personally prefer the Solara, but this one's not too bad, either."

"Fascinating," he shot back. "Now go away."

The woman whispered something in his ear, glancing at me several times. He raised an eyebrow, which instantly told me to run, and run fast. But when I tried, he just zapped me again so that I fell to the ground.

The woman came over and looked me in the eyes. "We want you to come with us," she said softly.

I got up quickly and brushed myself off. "You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"No, we really do."

"Where to?"

"A safe place. For people like us."

I stared at her. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"We're not going to hurt you."

I rolled my eyes. "Like I believe that." I started walking off, but the woman caught up.

"You don't understand. You _have_ to come with us."

"On your life."

"It's dangerous for mutants here. _Especially_ here."

I stopped and stared right at her, letting my claws out. "I thought you would've picked it up by now—_leave me alone._"

Suddenly, the man was behind me. "I don't think that's an option." This was getting way too freaky, even for me. So I made an executive decision—

I ran like heck.

I'd have to find Victor again, and another car, but—

Lightning struck me before I could even finish the thought. But it was a perfectly clear day; how could there be lightning?!

The man and woman came up as I lay on the ground, trying to catch my breath. He picked me up by my left arm, and I immediately started fighting to get out of his grip.

"Let me go! Let me _go!_" I slashed at his arm, I snapped at his hand, I even tried stabbing at his foot, but nothing worked. The woman finally grabbed my other arm, but I kept kicking, desperate now.

They carried me like that back to the car. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. "Victor! Victor, help!"

He shot out of the alley where the twins were, but he was forced to stop just before he could cross the street by a semi barreling by. If he had kept going, the truck would've swept him away before he had a chance to react.

They were trying to put me in the backseat of the car, but I was still putting up a fight.

"Settle down!" The woman said. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

She didn't know the first thing about me, did she?

The two of them somehow managed to get me in the car and slam the door just as Victor pounced on them. I tried to open the door, but for some reason, it wouldn't work. Psycho car.

The woman suddenly froze as her eyes turned solid white. The wind started blowing so hard that Victor was swept off his feet, despite his attempts to resist.

"Victor!" I screamed as the man and woman got into the car and sped off. I watched the skyscrapers fade into the distance, and for the first time in years, I was scared. What did these people want with me? Were they more of Stryker's goons?

I decided to find out. "If you're taking me to Colonel Stryker for him to experiment on, I swear, I'll kill you both."

The woman turned around. "I promise, we're not. We're taking you somewhere safe."

"Sure you are."

"Really, it is. Trust me."

My eyes blazed. "Do I _look_ like the kind of person who trusts people that easily? Especially after the ones in question have just _kidnapped_ me?"

"We didn't kidnap you," the man said tiredly.

"Well, what would _you_ call it, Red Eyes?" I shot back. "I didn't exactly come willingly. I don't even know who you are!"

"My name is Storm," the woman replied, "and that's Cyclops."

I rolled my eyes. "Storm and Cyclops. Cute. What are you, superheroes?"

They ignored the jab. "And you?" Cyclops asked sarcastically.

"Kitsch," I snapped, "Marlie Kitsch."

Long silence. Very long silence. Then, I asked, "Where are we going? And don't you dare say 'somewhere safe;' I want a name."

It was Storm who answered. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know Scott died in X3. I'm very much in denial over that ((excerpt from my life: -rawrface- DIE, JEAN, DIE!)) so in this story, which is set AFTER X3, both he and Xavier are perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch.  
Jean, however, is still dead. Which is how it should be.  
[/snark]  
And anyone who knows where the chapter title came from is awesome. 'Nuff said.**


	36. Welcome To Xavier's

"Let me out."

"What?" Storm looked puzzled.

"Let me out. I don't want to go to Xavier's."

"Too bad," Cyclops said, sounding like he enjoyed tormenting me.

"We can't just let you go on the streets!" Storm added.

"Yeah, you can. That's where you found me." My eyes darted around, looking for an escape route.

"I understand that, but—"

I interrupted her, getting more and more jumpy. "You can just let me out here, and I can go back to New York, and Victor and I can just continue getting Stryker's mutants--"

Storm's turn to interrupt me. "You kidnap mutants for Colonel Stryker?"

I kept my mouth shut. I'd already said too much.

"Fine, be that way, but we're not letting you out," Cyclops said with finality.

I sulked in the backseat. I'd get away, eventually. I had to.

----------

The car ride lasted a couple of hours, during which I'd tried everything from unlocking the doors and jumping out to busting a window. Neither worked, so I was still sulking as we pulled into the school.

Did I say school? The place was a freakin' _mansion_, with a huge yard in front and more in the back. There were kids everywhere, some younger than me, some my age or older. They were playing and laughing and generally enjoying themselves.

Cyclops parked the car and opened the door for me. I gave him my best death glare. He shrugged, then a gust of wind blew me out of the car and slammed the door shut so I couldn't get back in. I tried to make a run for it, but he and Storm grabbed my arms again and started dragging me into the mansion.

I am proud to say that I put up such a fight that several students stopped what they were doing and stared at me. Inside the building, they poked their heads out of their bedroom doors and around corners to see what the heck was going on.

Score one for me. ((In your face, Red Eyes.))

Cyclops and Storm finally put me down in an empty room, then they left and locked the door on their way out. Bloody lock was on the outside.

After a while, Cyclops came back and sat down in a chair conveniently placed in front of the door. "What's your name?"

"Marlie Kitsch, I told you."

"Your real name."

"How do you kn—"

"Trust me, we'll know if you're telling the truth."

I was stumped. These guys were good. "Stephanie. Stephanie Creed," I said quietly. "Happy?"

"For now." He got up and shoved a notebook and pencil at me. "Write down your story. The whole thing; don't leave anything out."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then both you and I will be in here until you do. Got it?" He sat back down in his chair.

I glared at him. _Nazi._

I procrastinated for a long, long time. Sometimes Storm came in, but she left after a while. Cyclops never did.

Finally, when I realized that 'not leaving' meant 'no food at all until you're done,' I started writing.

So that's where I am right now, finished my life on paper for Cyclops. Hopefully he'll let me out now.

I don't know what I'll do next, but whatever it is, I'm not staying here for long.

—Stephanie Ryan Creed

* * *

**A/N: Mkay, my late night mental math is absolute crap. I was wrong; there are only 37 chapters. This is the second-to-last one.  
Annnd now we're back to the present. -much rejoicing?-**


	37. Stereotypical Hollywood Ending

I hand the notebook back to Cyclops. I still don't know his real name. Or Storm's, for that matter. "Can I go now?"

He flips quickly through the pages, skimming over my scrawled words. "Let me check." He leaves the room, the first time he's done so in a couple of days.

_Let me check?_ Who's he reporting to, Captain Kirk?

I start pacing around the room, like a caged animal. If I stay here at Xavier's, I'm going to lose my mind.

When the door finally opens again, it's Storm with a tray of food. "We thought you might want—"

I don't hear the rest of what she says; I immediately start wolfing down the food. It's probably the best meal I've ever had, except I barely taste it.

When I'm done, Cyclops bursts in the door. "The Professor wants to see her."

I freeze. "Professor Xavier?"

Storm smiles. "Who else?"

I am so dead.

Storm and Cyclops lead me down the hall and through the maze of the mansion to get to the Professor's office. For once, I'm completely silent, skulking along after them. Some of the students spot me, though, and they start whispering amongst themselves.

I allow myself a small grin. I already have a reputation.

----------

The Professor's office is pretty nice. Wood shelves filled with books, comfortable-looking chairs, and a large desk. The Professor himself is in his wheelchair behind the desk, but he rolls over to greet us.

"Thank you for bringing her so quickly," he says to Storm and Cyclops. They nod and back away, one on each side of the door.

The Professor looks at me and smiles warmly. "Welcome to my school, Miss Creed. Please, sit down."

I slink over to one of the chairs and shrink into it. I'm not liking this at all.

"I've already looked over what you wrote," he continues, "but sometimes it's better to actually _see_ things." He sees my puzzled look and explains. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to read your mind and see your story first-hand."

What do I have to lose? I'm not going to be here long, anyway. I nod, and, after a short pause, the Professor puts his hands about an inch away from either side of my head and closes his eyes. I try not to think of anything in particular.

After a few minutes of silence, the Professor opens his eyes and puts his hands down. "You, Miss Creed, are a very interesting person. I'm not surprised I didn't recognize you."

Cyclops jumps into the 'conversation.' "You've met her before?"

The Professor looks up at him. "About nine or ten years ago, yes. She's Wolverine's daughter."

Now it's my turn to be confused again. "Wolverine?"

The Professor smiles slightly. "You've got a lot to learn while you're here." He wheels back behind his desk. "I think I had better introduce you to my X-Men."

I automatically stiffen. The Professor can obviously hear my thoughts, because he says, "Don't worry, they won't hurt you."

A minute or so later, five people come into the room. One of them, a girl with long gloves and white streaks in her hair, speaks up. "Did you need something, Professor?"

"Yes, actually, I did." Xavier looks at me, and everyone else follows suit. "This is Stephanie Creed. She's—"

The other girl, the short one with chocolate brown hair, interrupts. "She's the one everyone was talking about! The feral that Storm and Cyclops brought in!"

Feral? This girl has obviously never met Victor. Once you had, there was no way I'll seem 'feral.' Plus, I don't have the enhanced senses.

The Professor gives her a pointed stare. "As I was saying, she is the _new student_ that Storm and Cyclops brought in." I glare at him. He's assuming I stick around.

"Allow me to introduce the X-Men," he continues. "You've already met Cyclops and Storm, otherwise known as Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe."

No kidding.

"You've also seen their mutations. Scott emits high-energy beams of light from his eyes, and Ororo controls the weather."

He nods at the gloved girl. "That's Marie, also known as Rogue. Whenever her bare skin touches anyone else's, she absorbs their life and, if the person's a mutant, their powers."

The guy holding her hand is next. "Bobby Drake, or Iceman. Everything he touches instantly freezes."

The other girl. "Kitty Pryde, or Shadowcat. She has the power of intangibility."

A guy who looks like he can pass for Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Peter Rasputin. He can turn his skin into metal, giving him superhuman strength and invulnerability."

The last X-Man is completely blue, with pointed ears, even pointier teeth, and intricate patterns cut all over his skin. "Kurt Wagner, better known as Nightcrawler. He can teleport anywhere he wishes."

"As long as I can see it," Kurt adds in a heavy German accent. I notice a long, pointy tail peeking out from under his tan coat.

Xavier frowns. "Where are the others?"

"Dr. McCoy's in the infirmary," Kitty answers. "Warren got hurt pretty bad in the Danger Room."

The Professor nods. "There's one more member of the team, Stephanie, but I don't think he'll need an introduction."

The door opens again. "You called?" A man's voice says sarcastically.

I whirl around out of my chair recognizing the voice. Sure enough, there he stands in the door way, looking slightly bored, but still tough and confident.

Wolverine. Logan. My father.

His eyes meet mine, and I'm pretty sure we're both almost shocked out of our skins.

There are a million things I want to tell him, to ask him, to scream at him, but I don't get the chance. The next thing I know, I'm crying into his shoulder as his strong arms hold me close, like he'll never let me go ever again.

* * *

**A/N: If anyone needs to go vomit from all the sugar they just ingested, please, do so now.  
*waits patiently*  
Alright, now that everyone's feeling better, I'd like to do a short, literary version of an Oscar acceptance speech. I promise, you won't be here long. lol.  
First off, thanks to EVERYONE who's read this, and to everyone who's reviewed, too. You guys make me laugh, you make me think, you make me stay up way later than I should arguing with Victor about what his ulterior motives are.  
Especially big thanks to ZuzuHowlett, who's been reading since the first day I posted this story. Greetings to Mexico! =D  
To icanreadyourmind for the whole 'Vicky' thing, because otherwise we may have had Monsieur LeBeau in this story. Not that having Remy in a story is a bad thing...;D It just would've gotten very weird very fast. O.o  
To soon2Bme, for asking me questions that seem totally out of the blue, but that make me think...and stay up way later than I should arguing with Victor about what his ulterior motives are. xD  
To pretty much everyone who's read consistently. Loyal readers RULE. A bunch of y'all are gonna get together and take over the world one day, I'm callin' it.  
Uber-thanks to everybody--you guys rock. Without y'all, I'd still be a geeky little teenage girl writing in the corner and throwing wadded-up balls of paper at anyone who dared to come near. Seriously.  
Oh, and if y'all want a sequel...lemme know. And tell me what you'd want to see in it. Who knows, I may end up using your idea.  
Arrivederci, and thanks again for reading!**


	38. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

**'Kay. I've been getting a LOT of emails that tell me a bunch of you are subscribing to Freak Like Me. Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you like it, but...**

**Subscribing to this one isn't going to work, my dears. This story is no longer updating. Finished! Over! Kaput!**

**With that said, I direct your attentions to HelterSkelter, the continuation of Freak Like Me. **_**That **_**story is updating at least once a month, maybe more if I get around to it.**

**Again, thanks for reading, and I'm glad you like the story! Hopefully, you'll still like it as it continues.**

**You now have a choice: either listen to some Beatles music, or go read HelterSkelter. Or both. =D**

**Yours truly,**

**Lady Adrianna Herndon**


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